#they would be considered to be curses instead of just classified as a spell or magical effect

[gravidwithlore]

Has anyone else ever thought about curses and kink? Not just someone being cursed and then discovering a new kink, but someone having a kink and purposely trying to get cursed in a way that fulfills that kink?

Like for example, witch gf has to leave on a business trip for a weekend, but she knows her bf will be so lonely without her. Knowing her bf has a pregnancy kink, as a kinky little parting gift, she curses him so that every time he masturbates the more pregnant he gets (with what? Guess itll be a surprise). She leaves with a wink and tells him she expects to see a sweet little baby bump by the time she gets back. When she gets back 3 days later, he's already cummed himself senseless, all the way to laboring and crowning around the head of a big demon spawn. Overstimulated and whining, he's still doing his best to touch himself. Because the spawn is partially born already, the curse doesn't just grow the spawn spreading his legs, it instead creates a sibling for his leaving occupant. As she walks into their bedroom, he cums again, and she can see his belly visibly start to swell again. The witch puts down her suitcase and wonders if she can get her slutty bf to cum enough that the 2nd spawn gets big enough to be born once her bf is done cumming out it's sibling.

Or you're single, and happy that way, but still looking to get a good spanking and its so hard to find someone to do it right. Too impatient to go through the human interaction and negotiation, you go to a witch and get a custom curse. Anytime you do some inane, mildly bad habit, you get a solid SMACK! across your backside. Let's say it's something you're more likely to do at home than out in public, or a certain phrase or gesture you tell the witch you're trying not to say or do. The more you do it the more the curse evolves, changing up the position and force of each slap. Sometimes you swear you can feel the metaphysical hand lingering, as if admiring it's own work. Instead of dissuading you from doing this 'habit' the activation thing genuinely becomes a habit of yours. Once it happens accidentally in public, you realize you might have a new, but still related, kink.

A man has always secretly dreamed of becoming a hucow, and after getting tired of his draining soulless business career, he finally decided to make it a reality. They make fake social media accounts and reach out to a curse creator. He pretends he's someone else who hates him, who wants to see him suffer and be humiliated. He DMs them a whole rant about how he needs to be taken down a few pegs, how he's awful and absolutely deserves this horrible curse to change him for the rest of his life. The curse creator absolutely agrees to help, even providing him a discount out of sympathy for his fake story. Since he knows it's coming, he feels when the curse hits. It's not long until people around him start to comment on how ditsy he's been lately, how much weight he's gaining, how his voice sounds 'different.'

Eventually, he tearfully admits to his friends and family that he thinks someone's cursed him! How could he possibly know who? And no one's come forward to gloat, who could possibly hate him so much to curse him like this? His loved ones look on in sad, if slightly condescending, empathy. It's not his fault he can't keep a thought straight in his stupid little cow brain, or that he keeps getting distracted by the growing teats bouncing on his chest, or that half the time he tries to form a complete sentence he can't help but moo a little! Eventually, when he's almost unrecognizable from the person he was, a family member suggests maybe joining a farm? They have a friend who's just bought one, and they're trying to get started, besides wouldn't it be so much better to be able to roam around a farm, rather than be cramped in his city apartment?

The moment he arrives at the farm and catches sight of the big minotaur running the place, he can't help but bat his long beautiful eyelashes and let out a visceral, lowing heated moo. When the curse creator reaches out to ask them to leave a review, he rates them 5 stars. Then immediately forgets what he was doing as he rubs his hyper-sensitive gravid belly, full to bursting with the minotaur's babies already, which is miraculously dwarfed by his massive udders, hooked up to the strongest milk pump his beloved farmer could find.

[drmflm]

—summary: you were bestowed with a curse from the universe, but a chance encounter with a god led you to unlock the secrets behind it, bringing you a world rich with magic and love.

—pairing: god!minghao x gn!reader (ft. gods!ot12)

—word count: 4.7k

—genre: angst, fluff

—au: fantasy, gods, magic, reality warping, philosophical (this is so on brand lol)

—rating: pg-15

—warnings: poverty, mentions of corrupt government, mild mentions of war/bloodshed, death (immortal character outlives their family), loss, overprotective parental figure

—note: hi peeps! pls take your time while reading this one, as there’s lots of little things to find and connect in the smaller details!

—collab: this is for the seven kingdoms collab with @pjmsdior and @wonception !

You didn’t mean to upset the universe, it just so happened that the bread was worth it.

Euthymia was a wretched place, a place where poverty reared its ugly head in the empty bellies of most of its population, and corruption classified its political system. Spiritual beliefs and religious conflict tore apart so many families, friends, and even mere strangers, and brought forth so much bloodshed that your history would forever be painted red.

It made you think, that if the gods truly loved you, wouldn’t they have tried to stop you all? It made you question whether there was anything in this world that was worth saving, considering the fact that no matter what happened, all things ended up getting destroyed anyway.

Your hands conveyed your feelings, your lips sealed shut and unable to articulate the words that nestled themselves in your chest. As you bowed your head at the merchant—in an attempt to shroud your eyes from them—you noticed that your order was one piece short. However, speaking was forbidden for someone such as you. Hungry and desperate, you did not move, pointing to your order and holding up your fingers.

The merchant, with a vicious smile, simply pretended like they did not understand your concern, and urged the next customer forward. Huffing in defiance, you grabbed your piece of bread from the display, not caring at the merchant’s angry yells after you. You paid, and it was your bread.

However, at the sound of the merchant’s anger, the guards posted at the Square’s gates were on the alert. You felt the magic in the air swirl thickly around you, reading you and your intentions, your species, your nature…

But you blocked it all, ignoring the possibility of being discovered, instead opting to run towards the wall.

Now, here’s the thing. A lot of people thought that things in this world were unshakeable. Primarily because they assumed what was tangible was real. But sometimes reality was a twisted little thing, and as long as you knew how to dance, you and life could do quite the lovely tango.

Looking at the stone wall, you imagined it opening from side to side, to reveal the woods behind it, where a stone pathway led you into the dark and looming trees. As your vision came to life, you slipped through the closing doors before they closed, running straight down the path that was destined for you.

That was your first time warping reality.

When you were a little kid, your mother always told you that you had a gift. She said that it was something special, something that only a few very important people possessed.

At the time, you thought that was what every parent told their kid, but soon you came to the conclusion that, that wasn’t the case.

When you turned 10, your mother was forced to have you silenced forever.

…

“Y/n,” she said softly, cradling your face. Your small hands curled into fists at her visible distress, and you confusedly looked at her, wondering what was wrong. “I need you to do something for mama.”

“What’s wrong mama?” You asked, eyes glazed over with tears, lips glimmering like rubies in the light.

“Please just sit here for a little bit, and let her do the spell, okay?” She asked and you nodded slowly as she moved aside to let the witch perform the spell.

You were confused, but you let your mother go, on high alert as the spellcaster neared you. Her eyes were flecked with gold crystals and an owl pendant hung from her neck. She exuded an air of comfort, of wisdom. Nevertheless, the fear of the unknown was what prominently displayed on your face. You were afraid.

“By Order of the Great Euthymia, I hereby bestow the Silence of The Honoured upon thy child before me, to keep the balance of the elements and bring forth the peace and tranquility of all to the children of the stars.”

As you struggled to free yourself from the magical binds that slowly wrapped themselves around your lips, along your lungs and into your thoughts, you realized one very important thing about this world: sometimes, doing the right thing was doing the wrong thing to someone else.

…

You always thought it was silly, how your mother told you that you were so special and brilliant, and that was the reason why she had to silence you. It made you sick to think that this world wanted neither brilliant or exceptionally bad, but just the soulless middle that was neither too smart or dumb to stand out.

But then again, they needed sheep to herd, not a dragon to roar or a leech to drain. It made sense, in order to preserve the kingdom of the gods, but you knew, just as your mother did, that it would one day come crashing down, all because of you.

You would be the catalyst that started it all—that is, if you were allowed to speak.

Maybe it was because your mother loved you and wanted to protect you, or she simply feared the change you’d bring, but you were always treated so carefully by her, to the point where no matter what you did, you could never do it safely enough.

Whether it was eye contact or making skin-to-skin contact with another, any sort of interaction with anybody was forbidden by your mother. Of course, as you grew older she became more lenient, but the fear of harming anybody by being close to you was ingrained in you, and you struggled to unlearn the behaviours that were so deeply rooted into your mind.

Then again, sometimes reality liked to play with you, and who were you to refuse a dance?

Even if your mother told you, you were never allowed to play with the inner workings of the universe, it was as though it reached out to you, offering a gentle hand to coax you out to play with it.

And you were a creature driven by temptation, so you simply let it bring you along.

That said, your mother was right. If you played with it too much, someone was bound to notice. You weren’t entirely sure who that “someone” was, but you knew they were most definitely someone important. Like one of the gods.

And they weren’t one to be messed with.

Sometimes you found the path you were walking on gently leading you away from home, or the bread you bought missing. Other times, it was as though another’s presence loomed over you and watched your every move carefully.

These days though, when things were getting tough for you, you noticed the universe was darker than usual. And that was saying something, since these days it was always pretty grim.

As you walked down to the market, you heard a ruckus form behind you. Turning quickly, you noticed two people fighting over a merchant stand, heard the swarm of people crowding around to watch the fight, felt the glaring sun beat down on you, bright lights dancing along your vision as the magic began to grow thick in the air.

Too much stimulation for your heart to bear, you quickly walked away, feeling that chasm of imbalance grow further and further till a sinking feeling took hold over you.

Negative energy emanated along the city streets, and the more you walked down, the more a threat loomed over you. You felt the deep, dank energy all around you, trying to break past the barriers that surrounded you, trying to find a crack to seep into and coming up fruitless.

Why was the world so dark all of a sudden?

As you scanned the square, a second reality opened up in front of you, and you noticed a charcoal world, bleak and empty, smoke and ash gently filtering into your world from the portal in disarmingly large gusts.

As you stood, staring at the wall in disbelief, you noticed how the smoke affected the people who wandered close to it, their smiles slowly sinking into frowns.

Taking a deep breath of fresh air, you wandered closer to it, imagining a happier version of the scene in front of you, one with flowers and bluebirds chirping happily.

However, the portal would not budge, so instead, you changed your though process. Imagining the smoke extinguished, dark sky littered with clouds and rain, the ash slowly sinking to the ground, you opened your eyes to see the scene before you slowly turn from bitter smoke into rainy melancholy.

Sad, but feeling relieved at the change, you blinked rapidly a few times before continuing on your way through the wall into the square.

“Seems pretty gloomy out here, doesn’t it?” A voice asked from beside you. You looked over, before immediately looking away to avoid eye contact. “It’s as though everybody is diseased with sadness.”

He went silent before you felt him staring at you, “You don’t talk much do you? Well, that is okay. After all, sometimes silence is better.”

You were steadfast as you looked away, though it was tempting to imagine the owner of the voice, who had an interesting lilt to his voice, an accent you were unfamiliar with.

“Your aura shimmers brighter, unaffected, unlike those here. Are you not affected by the universe’s hands, young one?”

Your heart stopped at the implications of his words. No, you were not different. You were not young. You were the same, always the same.

You heard his feet crunch on the gravel as he neared you. Stepping back carefully, you made sure to keep your face shrouded beneath your hood.

“Tell me young one, what is your name?”

Tensing, you felt his magic fill the air, thick and prodding, something old and powerful. It was like the essence of you, a gaseous thing that was found only in the brightest stars.

He was one. Your heart skipped a beat.

This was one of the gods.

“Darling, it seems you bear the ‘Silence of the Honoured’,” he mused, before you felt the air between you tighten. “What must you be hiding in your heart, that you must be quieted by us for eternity?”

You closed your eyes in fear, fear because even though you could not speak, you were afraid you would be discovered, or worse, punished for your existence.

“Please, Cheol, let the poor thing go before they perish from your prying,” a second voice chorused. The man before you stepped back. “I doubt they know the truth of their existence themselves.”

The man, Cheol, just sighed, “The Silenced may not speak, but their heart would always confess its intentions. Always.”

“But there have been notable exceptions,” the voice mused, before another figure was heard approaching the two of you. “This is simply another one.”

“You know how exceptions work, Jeonghan,” Cheol sighed, before you felt their eyes return to you. “The universe does not appreciate them.”

“But who is the universe to refuse the will of Minghao?” Jeonghan asked, and you heard him laugh—something melodic and beautiful—at Cheol’s disdain. “Let them go, Cheol. This is not your affair to meddle in.”

The two of them were gods, you felt it deep within your bones. Turning your head to look at them, you watched as their eyes widened at the colour of your eyes.

Walking forwards, you bowed to them respectfully, before returning to stand and making a sign of respect, where you held your hands out in front of you, placing one in front of the other before retracting them slowly.

They simply stared at you as you wandered away, and you felt their eyes follow you the whole way back.

You smiled.

After that day, the universe grew more respectful of you. With every piece of bread you stole from the market, it seemed the square guards ran into more and more obstacles with every passing day.

At one point, the merchant eventually realized that taking advantage of your condition was a futile attempt, and began giving you what you paid for, and perhaps even a piece more, just to appease you.

You were satisfied with this, and were more than happy to enjoy the extra bread with your meals. Even though it was just you, the world was looking a little brighter as you meandered through your life.

That said, there was always a balance, and you were sure you would have a bad day soon enough to offset all the good ones you’d been having.

It was time.

While you were out in the woods, arms fully extended at your sides, you felt the presence of the gods before you. Ignoring them, you let your hands grow warm, bringing the fire along your arms, the water to your chest, and allowed the earth to crawl from the soles of your feet up the length of your legs. The air filled your skull, nourished it with the promise of magic.

As you twirled, your fire grew hotter, and you were aware of its beauty while you tangoed with the breeze, a performance for the creatures that dwelled in the trees, and also the gods.

When your twirl ended, you felt your vision return to you, revealing the secrets the universe tried to hide form your kind. Looking upwards, you saw them sitting upon their stars, staring you down from above.

As they appeared before you, you crossed your arms and raised your brows.

This time, instead of it just being the two of them, there were three additional deities with them. All of them were of course handsome, but in such a way that was untouchable and perfect. They seemed so regal that it made you feel self-conscious of any humanly imperfection you may have had.

“The more I watch you, the more I realize that you are so much more than an ‘exception’ of Minghao’s,” Cheol said, looking at you intently, crystalline green eyes glimmering with curiosity. “Just what are you?”

You grinned before shrugging your shoulders and turning your back on them. It was rude, and highly disrespectful to turn one’s back on the gods, but you didn’t care, because when you were one of the Silenced, there were a lot of things that you were able to do without regret.

“If I may, Cheol,” a voice spoke up. He was much taller, with two-toned eyes. “It seems that this one is destined for godhood.”

Your head whipped towards him then, and you stared at him with disbelief. He just stared back at you calculatingly, as though he was assessing whether his speculation was right.

“You think so?” Cheol asked, looking at you with renewed interest.

“Think about it, Cheol,” Jeonghan said, looking at you as well. “Doesn’t it make sense? Mingyu’s right, with that bright of an aura paired with that powerful magic? They are one of us, it is why we cannot see within their heart.”

“Because they don’t have one,” Mingyu said, looking at you interestedly. “They’re a star waiting for their time to rise.”

“Ah, remember those good old days of being a godling?” One of the others sighed, and the rest of them got dreamy looks in their eyes. “Truly the best time of my existence.”

“But we shouldn’t meddle any further,” Jeonghan said after a moment, returning his gaze to you. “If this is Minghao’s godling, then we mustn’t overwhelm them.”

And with that, you watched as they boarded their meteors and returned to the heavens.

When you watched them disappear into the distance, all you could think to yourself was, what the heck was that?

Even if their stifling presence was gone, and you were back to having good days, you couldn’t help but feel a shift in the world, and you were fraught with uncertainty of what that was.

While the days continued to pass by, you began to notice things more. Such as the fact that there were more owl sightings in your village—a sign of great wisdom being bestowed upon you—as well as the fact that everything you seemed to wear bore an owl symbol.

Whether it was a owl on the tag of your shirt, embossed on your pant button, or on the soles of your shoes, no mater where you went, you always had an owl symbol on you. You never really noticed it before, but with the recent owl sightings and your own superstitions coming into play, you couldn’t help but feel something was stirring in the universe.

And you were right, for the Government of Euthymia decided to increase the taxes in all the villages, as well as enforce stricter tax collection policies and punishments.

At that, your blood boiled in fury, and as the rest of your village accepted it easily, you were fraught with anger and disgust, feeling the fire in your arms flutter to life through your veins.

”Come to the forest,” a voice urged as you crumpled the poster into your fist. ”Your answer lies there.”

As a path opened up in front of you, you felt the fire light up your way before you even twirled, a testament to your growing powers and the power of your emotions.

When you got to your stage—a clearing that gave you enough space to practice freely, a man, no a god, was there waiting for you.

He was a different kind of god though, that much was clear. Unlike the untouchable beauty of the other gods, this particular god looked, and seemed, human. Balanced with human imperfection on his face, and softer lines on his face, he seemed stunningly beautiful, in such a human and natural way. Until you saw his eyes, that is.

Extending out his hands, you noticed how his glimmering gold eyes beckoned you forward. Taking his hands, he led you into a dance, and deep in the forest somewhere, music rang clearly throughout the trees.

“My darling, it has been a long time, has it not?” He asked, bringing you into a dip. “I’m impressed to see how much you’ve grown these past few years.”

As you looked back at him curiously, he chuckled as he scanned your face, “Indeed, I am sorry for your silence. Sometimes the human brain is a little too dense and says some things that are better off unspoken.”

You blinked slowly as his skin grew warmer, and his hair became a fiery red. His skin turned blue and deep in your head you heard the gentle whistling of air in your ears. Vines caressed your ankles, and with every swoop, there was a flower nestled against you.

This was him, Minghao, the God of Balance. Who also happened to be the god who blessed your soul with his magic.

In your dip, he paused, resting you against a bed of daisies, to gently tap a finger against your lips, “You may speak again, my love.”

At that moment, you felt the swift removal of the magical barriers that were embedded within your lips. Like the swift pull of a bow, the bonds fell apart, slowly unravelling to permit you language once more.

“Hello,” you whispered, in awe of the sensation of speaking.

“Hello dearest,” he greeted, before lifting you to stand on your own two feet. “It’s been a long, long time.”

You turned your head away from him, deep in thought, before returning your gaze to him, “why did you choose me as your godling?”

He just looked at you fondly, “there is simply a balance for all things. Periods of companionship and loneliness must be balanced in order to create a rich experience of both. Just as mortals, I too, require some companionship.”

You nodded, “I understand, but why me specifically?”

He didn’t answer your question, simply shrugging, “the universe always has its reason for things. I simply create things within its limits.”

“But the others said—“

He just laughed, “the others do not know the extent of my realm of magic. They simply know their realm of power, just as I know mine.”

He put his hands together, before pulling them apart and holding a garland of flowers from both his palms, “I work with reality, shifting the layers ever so minutely to balance the flow of time.”

He held the garland out to you, “I see and hear the inner workings of nature, of time. It talks to me, lets me know the way of the world.” He smiled with the knowledge of something heavy and unspeakable, “Even the ways that are better off unknown.”

You were mesmerized at his words, looking at him with pure awe and reverence, “how do you manage to carry that with you every where you go?”

He just looked at you, and gods forbid you ever think of it, but you could have sworn you saw the shimmer of tears in his crystalline gold eyes, “I don’t.”

As you met with Minghao in the forest every day, pockets getting significantly emptier with every tax increase, and the hunger thick in your bones, you were always reminded of the beautiful things in life.

The two of you tangoed—sweet, fiery moments that were hidden to the outside under the cover of the trees. The things you two would talk about were powerful, beautiful, and sometimes a little melancholy-tinted. Yet, at the same time, the ability to speak, and the honour of dancing with him, outshone the fear that was embedded within you.

Your inconsequential fears bestowed within you from your mother were still there, but the more you thought about it, the more you realized why you weren’t so affected by them. Why you felt so comfortable dancing in his arms. It was because you were home, home in the realm of godhood, in the arms of Minghao and the universe’s cradle.

When you were in the arms of a god, you came to realize that no matter how cursed you were, he would not care, his magic was capable of removing things far greater with just a tap of his finger.

“Minghao, I must ask you something,” you said softly as you leaned in closer to him. He hummed in response, before looking down at you sweetly.

“What is it my love?”

You took a deep breath, “The Government of Euthymia, they’re heartless and cruel. The people are suffering, the taxes are too high and people can no longer afford food or water.”

His eyes darkened, and a pained expression took over his face, “Y/n—“

“Is there nothing you or I can do to help?” You asked, stopping your steps and urging him to look at you.

He just shook his head, “I’m sorry, I truly am. But balance is something you must understand as a scale. With such a deplorable environment, I am sure that it is tough. But I promise you, it reaps a beautiful reward for the future generations. They will live in prosperity. When the current leader abandons their post, it will bring rise to a beautiful, prosperous nation.” His sad eyes focused onto you. “Sometimes only the greatest suffering may bring the change that is needed to bring forth the greatest happiness.”

You understood, and though it hurt so much to sit back and do nothing, you knew that this was how it had to be. Part of your power was recognizing the futility of interference. It was better to keep from meddling the predestined, and rather, to keep things in order, even if it was hard morally or otherwise.

There was this certainty that came with age. It was the certainty that things would even out eventually, that there was a reason to believe in the good, the bright, the happy. Because with every low, there would always be a high within reach. Perhaps that’s one of the secrets of the universe that revealed itself as humans aged. From a young person to an elderly one, the type of hopes and beliefs one had fluctuated before eventually evening out and becoming steadfast in old age.

At this point of your existence, where you outlived all of your family, all of the people you knew and loved, you were sure that this was the secret that made life so rich: the knowledge that there were better days to come, always.

Minghao searched your face, “revel me with your thoughts, my love.”

“I see why you had me silenced,” you said in your soft, pillowy voice, something that always reminded you of how much you missed it when it was gone. “By silencing me, it gave me the chance to experience my life before I would be forever exposed to the universe’s secrets, things I’ll always hold with me, forever.”

He nodded, “but it is not a bad thing to know all things. It just means that you must take what you know and live the way you have been shown, the way that you have learned to live.”

“What if I learnt a better way?” You asked, looking at him hopefully. “What if I wanted to rise, to fly, to run away into a better life? What if I want to know everything, to hear your thoughts, your struggles, your fears? What if I wanted your love, or a kiss beneath the stars?”

He held you closer, leaning in, and that’s when you saw the sweet gold of his tears streaming down his cheeks, “are you sure you’d want that? Are you sure you’d give up your ignorance for me?”

There was no hesitation in your heart when you held his gaze, “yes.”

Nodding slowly, he stepped forward, “then if you want it, it is yours.”

He lowered his head, and as you leaned upwards into the kiss, your two worlds collided in a beautiful night of endless stars and meteors.

The heavens were truly stunning, at least from this angle.

Sat around the table with Minghao and his godly friends, you enjoyed fine ambrosia as you all watched the world below. It seemed the gods knew how to throw a good party, greeting you warmly and recounting the first time you met one another.

It was amazing, to be among others who were just as you: confined to a world that thought they were strange, terrifying. After all, they all expressed that being a godling was so incredibly difficult, but also incredibly rewarding. They all related to hiding their godly nature, of being ashamed of their magic, of their silence.

But you could all agree that being there among the stars, was truly the right place to be.

With you by Minghao’s side, the universe’s balance was rectified, flowing continuously in its highs and lows, evening out somewhere in the happy middle for a long, long time. During your visits to the world below, you noticed the prosperity that Minghao would talk about, seeing the smiles on children’s faces and the warm, home cooked dinners that were served on everyone’s tables.

Together, the two of you continued waltzing through the forest, two pieces of a perfect balance, and bringing with you a magic so beautiful, the universe once again, bowed to you.

And of course, you didn’t mean to upset the universe with your predetermined path, or your prophecy. But perhaps it was worth it, and not just for the bread.

But maybe for him as well.

©️ copyright 2022 svt117 . all rights reserved.

[poisonnxkki]

Love Magic & Ethics🖤

Art created by Abigail Larson

What is Love Magic?

Love magic is commonly viewed as magic used for attracting love. Depending on the belief system love magic can also be used for many other things. Glamour magic, hexes which cause impotence, break up spells and manifesting a partner can all be considered subcategories of love magic (depending on the tradition or how you classify different types of spells). Love magic has attracted a lot of attention in recent years because many people struggle with the dynamics of romantic relationships. Love magic can often feel like a quick fix but it is something that should be done with caution (& after you have put some protections in place).

Love Magic in Different Cultures:

Love magic has been used in many different cultures across time and is still one of the most popular forms of magic today. Even in movies, the idea of a love potion persists (the first example that came to mind was Julian from Madagascar and his love potion #9). In ancient Greece love magic fell into two different categories, curses of separation and curses of attraction (Magic, Witchcraft & Ghosts in the Greek and Roman Worlds by Daniel Ogden).

Love magic also has very strong ties in many POC practices (voodoo being an example) and therefore certain methods may be closed to most practitioners. These ties are also why a standard set of ethics is not possible. The morals that modern practitioners may want to impose on love magic do not stand the test of time and would not have been realistic in many of these practices. It is important to not force a set of ethics on any practice because they will not work 100% of the time.

My Ethics for Love Magic:

Disclaimer: Love magic, like any other form of magic, requires you to come up with your own ethical guidelines. I am sharing my personal guidelines based on personal experience (meaning I've had to fix a lot of mistakes). If you do not agree, then do not incorporate them into your practice.

Don't try to manifest your ex- trying to force something back into your life that isn't meant to be there is just bad news. They may come back but it will only be to remind you why you aren't meant to be. Painful and unnecessary.

Don't batch love spells- this one sounds strange and I probably wouldn’t have put it if I hadn't made this mistake before but I have and it had some unwanted side effects. If you are doing self-love spells for multiple people, do them individually. Doing them all at once can accidentally bind those people together which gets messy.

Don't try to force someone's affection- there are plenty of better ways to get someone to like you more with magic without trying to force it. Instead of casting on someone, try casting on yourself and it will likely give you the result you want (or something better).

Trust the universe’s timing- less of a rule and more of a reminder. Manifesting a partner is great and all but the universe works on it's own timeline and trying to speed that up isn't going to benefit anyone. The "perfect" partner will present themselves when we are ready to accept them and not a moment sooner.

Casting on a partner is okay- if someone is in a consenting, long term relationship then I don't believe they need to consent to spell work being done on them (which may be controversial but hear me out). Not everyone is open about their practice and not every partner believes in witchcraft. If you want to do spell work on your partner and it is coming from a loving place (ie. you just want to spice things up) then I see no reason why you shouldn't be able to.

Do divination before love magic- this is a hard rule that I have and it is one that I strongly believe everyone should consider. I believe it is important to confirm that the spell you are going to do will work in the way you want it to before you do it. Sometimes spells come into fruition in ways we did not expect and that can be dangerous in love magic. Doing divination can help mitigate or prevent any serious fallout.

*All images are from Pinterest*

[johbeck]

The weirdest thing about Harry Potter is how it can be used as a case study of how awful the world building of a show can be, but it’s never talked about because the story focuses on the characters instead.

Some examples:

- wizards can instantly teleport items and people, even automate the process through port keys. Yet still use owls and trains?

- the stairs randomly would never be useful, especially since new students come every year, who would likely have at least one classmate fall to their death.

- Hogwarts just straight up tries to kill its students. Sending them out into a forest full of student eating monsters like werewolves. Why isn’t there at least a fence between the forest and the school?!

- not one muggleborn wizard has introduced the concept of a Word document. “But writing with ink and quill is fun!” NO! It’s awful! You make a mistake? Well now you gotta restart that 1000 word essay!

- not a single class at hogwarts focuses on math or literature.

- some muggle things are better than magic, and the fact that no wizards have adopted those tools is stupid. Cast a silence spell on a gun! Now you can anything without sound or a giant glowing blast!

- wizards can do complicated spells innately as children; teleport, inflation and straight up erasing stuff like glass from existence. But the moment you put a wand in a hand, now they have to say specific words and movements?

- spells make no sense! Why would chanting Latin cause magic to happen? Words having meaning implies that someone is hearing them! Are all wizards envoking the power of some powerful entity every time they cast a spell? Is it demons, elder gods? What is it? Latin certainly implies a connection to the Catholic Church!

- the ministry of magic creates a worldwide ban on the word Voldemort, and get instantly location and identity info on people saying it… if that’s possible, then how the fuck isn’t this method used in other circumstances?

- the killing curse is unnecessary and stupid. If there is a spell to blow up a wall, a spell to turn someone into an animal and a spell to create fire. Then why develop a killing spell at all? Just blow them up! Turn them into a mayfly or a fish (on land)! Create fire in their lungs! A simple blender spell used for food preparation could be a murder curse, so why even have a spell that can only kill? From a story telling perspective, it’s also stupid. If wizards used signature spells to kill people, they would be much more iconic. But no! Every evil wizard just use Evil-Spell-That-Have-No-Personality-or-other-purpose.

- muggleborn wizards read and write at a 4th grade level, and since there’s no other education system in wizard society than hogwarts, that means that most pure blood wizard students can barely read or write. This also implies that Hermione was a know-it-all or smart, she was just one of the only 2 kids in her class that could actually read the book assignments. The only reason why Voldemort was a threat was probably because he grew up in muggle society and learned to read and do basic math.

- there’s constant mentions of things that fundamentally change the entire world, but that just never happens. There’s monsters like werewolves, vampires, centaurs, dragons and mermaids. Sure you can hide the existence of wizards, but why would any of the monsters, especially the feral, evil or non-thinking ones never reveal magic to be real?!

- there’s no good distinction why some creatures are kept secret/are magical and others aren’t. If dragons were real, what exactly prevent muggles from just classifying it as a highly dangerous animal like the real-life Komodo dragon? Why wouldn’t Rhinoceros, Red-pandas and Swans be considered magical? Gorillas used to be myths, are we to believe wizards used to house all gorillas in the world, in their basement?

There’s so much more, like how the existence of house-elves implies the existence of other elves. Harry Potter just uses every trope and myth, almost as if to copyright and trademark our cultural heritages.

[slightlymore]

hardest to love

part of the ‘soulmates collection’

surgeon!doyoung x surgeon!fem reader

others: haechan, jaemin, jeno

genre: medical au (but the medical part is not heavy), romance, angst, smut, fantasy elements, “enemies” to lovers, mutual pining 

warnings: +18, esplicit sexual content: doyoung is a hard dom and a soft dom in different scenes, short instances of sub doyoung, finger sucking (I know, I have a hand kink), spanking, raw, ice play, fingering, dry humping, thigh riding, choking, use of "sir", orgasm control and denial, edging, overstimulation, light degradation, oral f, brat taming, safe word, wine play?; lots of teasing; swearing; discussion around death; doyoung is a jerk but gets better

words: 13k

note: you can read this as a stand alone without having read the other works in the soulmate collection. what you need to know: haechan, jeno and jaemin travel different universes with the purpose of getting doyoung and yn be together. mark is trying to do the opposite. sometimes doyoung can remember past lives and sometimes he can't. this life takes place in a hospital. if you're confused by the three boys’ story everything will be explained in their backstory fics coming soon. 

__________

Haechan let out a single deep sigh. 

“Damn it. Doyoung is a fucking jerk in this life.”

The three young men were standing in the corner of the room watching two students trembling mortified in front of a pissed off Doyoung before he could turn around on his heels. 

“I thought he was a jerk in all lives,” Jeno commented while dusting off imaginary lice off his jacket. 

"I’ll be honest. When you said 'hell' I didn't expect the ER."

“Well have you ever been to-” Haechan continued but stopped when noticing Jeno not listening to him anymore but observing their third friend instead. 

“Hey, Jaemin?” Jeno put one hand on his shoulder. 

Jaemin was weak and paler than usual, eyes wide and with a slightly trembling chin. He then followed the direction of the younger gaze and gasped himself. 

“Yeah,” Haechan grated the back of his head. “I’m sorry. I told you this one is going to be hard.” 

Jaemin gulped, looking at himself walking around the bed and checking on the patients. 

That Jaemin looked exactly like him. 

The only difference was the clothes. That doppelganger had a doctor gown instead of a sweatshirt. 

“How is this possible? I don’t understand how I can be here and there at the same time.”

Haechan sighed at Jaemin’s comment. 

“You could consider it time travel. Now, listen to me.” 

Jaemin let himself be grabbed by Haechan’s hands, pressing on both of his arms and looked at the other’s intense eyes. 

“You have to avoid yourself while we work and-,” he stopped as if making sure to have Jaemin’s whole attention, “-you can’t talk to her.” 

As if Haechan’s voice was a spell that summons people, Jaemin raised his gaze from him to look behind Haechan’s shoulder where a woman was slowly walking the corridor, eyebrows furrowed trying to understand the medical records she was carrying. 

“Shit,” Haechan silently cursed and, placing one hand on Jaemin’s cheek, he indicated to keep quiet by putting one finger on his own lips. 

If Jaemin weren’t so weak in the limbs upon seeing her, he would have felt the tingle on his skin coming from Haechan’s palm, or he would have realized that the woman walked past them as if they were all invisible. 

Jeno, arms crossed on his chest, followed the woman with his eyes then nodded once as to indicate that the path was clear. 

“Why can’t I talk to her?” 

Jaemin’s head wanted to turn around and catch another glimpse but Haechan didn’t move his hand from his face yet. 

“You might, I promise. But only when I say so.” 

“Haechan and I can shapeshift and become invisible but you can’t and we won’t be around to babysit you all the time. Do your part and stay out of trouble.”

"You look mean,” Jaemin mumbled. 

"I am. Now move."

__________

A breath. 

A deep and heavy breath. 

He was hearing it inside his skull. His own irregular breath inside his own skull. 

Then a loud ringing suffocated every other sound in Doyoung’s ears. Like tinnitus, he thought, so used to elaborate information by classifying it into boxes.  

The man was looking at his hands as if they were not his, fingers gripping the defibrillator pads, watching how the chest underneath them rose and fell. 

Again. 

And again. 

A machine. The defibrillator and Doyoung. 

And that body as well. 

But it was too broken to be fixed. 

And when he barely heard the nurse’s question he straightened his back. “Time of death,” he inhaled, his hands now uncovering the wristwatch, “2:41 am,” he exhaled.

__________

Doyoung felt it inside his hands, under the skin. 

It was uncomfortable. 

He looked at his left palm and wished it trembled. 

"A surgeon," the announcement came in the form of a hard pat on the shoulders.

 Doyoung blinked surprised and put his glasses back up on the nose. 

"Great hands," the professor shook them with vigour, his eyes wide open and intense. "Steady," the old man continued his litany of compliments. 

Doyoung let him wiggle his arms for a few more seconds before sighing as another student grabbed the professor's attention. 

The young boy looked down at his hands as well after the man turned his back. 

His eyes scanned every line in his palms as if seeing them for the first time. 

"Those hands will do big things in the future" and Doyoung now, shoulders heavy, moist fringe patted on his forehead in the humidity of the terrace, felt like cutting his hands off. 

Yes. Big things. 

Like playing with life and death. 

Didn't you just kill a man? he asked his hands, lower lip trembling instead of his steady fingers. Huh? and you're fine? 

Doyoung tightened his fists with disgust and punched the air while letting them fall with force to his sides. 

The rain intensified and he stepped in the front further until feeling the cold and heavy drops hit his face. Their sound was chaotic and it calmed Doyoung's heart. 

Again. 

I can do it again. I've done it before. 

I do it again. 

I can get over it. 

He opened up his hands under the rain until he started to not feel his fingertips anymore. 

Then he walked back inside the hospital.

__________

When you had to deal with the first dying patient, you were paralyzed. 

It was very early in the morning. Your head was still full of the dreams you had just a while ago. Your heart was full of life and excitement for finally being able to work in the field. 

"Get your shit together."

That voice startled you. 

Doctor Kim, the most ruthless and cold person you've ever met, was your supervisor as an intern. 

You looked up at him and caught his dark eyes on that spectrally pale face. 

You just moved. You had no idea what you were doing. Terrified, you let your body work automatically. 

Doctor Kim was calm and efficient while your whole mind felt out of place. 

Oh, God. Oh God, please. 

And when his voice finally reached your ears as if from far away you sunk down on your knees. 

"Good job everyone." 

The kindest thing he has ever said to his interns.

The other vaguely kind thing was his introductory discourse. 

"I know that interning at the ER is dreadful, but that's life."

He was staring you all down, a short line of fresh out of med school trembling kids, no one having the courage to meet his eyes. 

"You have to be ready to see all sorts of things here. Okay, let's go."

And that was it. 

The encouragement of his introductory discourse. 

You'll feel like shit here, welcome. 

You hated him and you swore to yourself that you won’t behave the same. 

Ever. 

He was like a souless machine, walking around and tending to his duties. Lost in thoughts as your eyes scanned his figure walking busily around the hospital, you actually wondered if he had feelings at all. 

The first time you saw Doctor Kim actually show some type of sentiment, was when he exited the surgery room one day. 

You were walking around with the others and checking on the patients when he walked through the corridor like a storm. It was unclear what type of feeling that was but it made you unable to stop staring at his side of the face and back as he entered his office. 

The anaesthetist came out soon after, slowly and sighing deeply. 

And then you understood. 

You've lived many of those days afterwards until you had to welcome your own row of interns. 

You smiled and did a nice short welcoming discourse. 

And at that moment you, unfortunately, got what Doctor Kim meant when he was brusque with you in the beginning. 

It took you all three years of residency to finally get it: there were no actual right words to tell the students and there was no point in giving fake hope that everything is going to be alright. 

Still, there was no point in being a rude ass like him. So you at least smiled kindly and encouraged your students. 

God knew they needed it even more now.

You've never spoken much to Doctor Kim besides what was needed or the routine good morning sir and the short morning he would answer with. 

So it was strange that on the first day of your career as a real surgeon, after your hands and those of Doctor Kim near each other worked, barely moving, his muffled voice ordering the tools, your muffled voice doing the same, you hugged him. 

You hugged him that day for no reason besides the overwhelming feeling of being alive. 

Doctor Kim, after every surgery, good or bad, would always walk out on the terrace. 

You followed him that night and stopped behind his frame. You had to talk to someone about what just happened and he was the only one who might understand. 

He was facing the city lights and the wind breeze ruffled his hair. He didn’t care to push it off his forehead. 

"You did well today," he said quietly without looking at you. 

Oh, you blinked fast. 

Your first surgery was a success but your heart was beating so fast that you couldn't understand your feelings. 

Were you happy? Were you about to cry? Did you want to scream and jump? What did you want? 

But Doyoung just complimented you. 

So again, you let your body work automatically and you looked at yourself, as if going through depersonalization, timid feet filling the space between you and Doctor Kim, your hands touching his waist and going around it until meeting each other on his stomach. You placed your head on his shoulders and closed your eyes. 

"I was so scared," you whispered. 

Doctor Kim's body was stiff, no reaction from his posture, no words coming from his mouth. 

Was he shocked? Was he wondering what the hell were you doing? Was he about to tell you to get your shit together again like that first time three years prior? 

But he didn’t do any of these things. 

He sighed once and you imagined him closing his eyes and enjoying the warmth of your body. 

Even if for a moment. Even if it was all in your head and he actually hated it. 

Then he took a step forward and you had to let him go. 

And when he turned around and placed one palm on your shoulder without looking at you in the face, you remained alone on the terrace, breathing the cold air deeply and longing for his hands to hold you a little longer.

__________

Doyoung didn't speak to you again after that night. 

Nor did he look at you once. 

While you found yourself staring at his nape every time he walked around. Or turning your head as if following the trail he left behind. 

You couldn’t wear perfume in the hospital but it was as if Doyoung did because he’d pull your senses towards him by something invisible. 

As if that first touch you shared connected you to him in obscure ways. 

“Here’s the coffee that you asked for, sir.” You entered his office after his dry “come in”.

His expression was priceless and for a moment you felt the urge to look behind you and see if there were a ghost scaring him.

“What are you doing?” he asked. 

“Bringing you the coffee?” 

“I asked a student to do it, not you. You’re a surgeon.” 

Your lips were dangerously trying to form a smile while you placed the coffee on his desk. 

“Why does it matter? I am free while those students are busy learning how to be doctors.” 

“You think that just because you hugged me once when you were emotionally unstable, now we’re friends?” 

That question was so sudden and cold to make you snap your head upwards. 

His eyes were darker than usual and you almost gulped. 

“No, sir.” 

Your voice came out as a tiny exhale and if he felt sorry for his sudden and out of place tone, you couldn't see it on his face at all. 

"I was just being friendly as all colleagues would," you added a new note to your own tone, trying to perhaps make him feel guilty. 

"You can give me up."

His reply shut you up and you furrowed your eyebrows. “What?”

"I'm saying," he spoke slowly, "that I don't want to be friendly with you. Now, please leave."

________

"I'm going to fucking kill him!" you threw your head back to drink your espresso shot as if it was alcohol and slammed the paper cup back on the counter. 

Jaemin sighed pouring sugar into his coffee. 

"Why did you even try? He's a jerk." 

The man sipped on his drink slowly, the warmth of it misting his glasses. 

“I just-” you huffed, crossing your arms on your chest. “We’re colleagues. It made sense for him to be a piece of shit with us when we were interns but now? ‘I don’t want to be friendly with you’” you mocked his deep voice. “Who the fuck does he think he is? I swear I’ll accidentally stab him with a knife!”

“Hm. Do you like him?” Jaemin asked with an unimpressed tone. 

You almost grabbed the coffee from Jaemin’s hands and threw it in his face. 

“Are you insane? What does that mean? Why would I like him? Kim Doyoung? Me-” you pressed your index on your chest, “liking that asshole? I hate his guts! I can’t believe you said something like this! What’s to like about him?”

Jaemin felt his fringe move around his forehead at your intense voice as if it were wind. 

“No need to get so worked up about it. You’re just talking so often about him lately. Also, he’s objectively good looking. He’s also smart. I understand.” 

“He’s the ugliest man I’ve ever laid my eyes on! And he’s an idiot! And I don’t talk about him! I have no idea what you’re all about.” 

Jaemin rolled his eyes and finished the drink. 

“Talking of ugly. What’s that shirt you’re wearing?” you asked. 

The man’s head snapped down to look at it. “What’s wrong with it?” 

You chuckled once. “Where did you buy it?” 

“It’s a normal Polo.” 

You laughed even harder. “A Polo you say? And what’s that? A knock off Holo?”  

“What’s Holo?” 

Jaemin’s face was genuinely confused and it amused you even more. 

“Are you getting enough sleep? You’ve been acting weird lately.” 

“Or,” he relaxed his expression, lifting one index up, “I come from an alternate universe.” 

You chuckled once and hit his shoulder lightly as a greeting, liking his new joking side. “See you later then, alternate universe Jaemin.”

__________

Doyoung wanted to hit his head on the desk. 

Your expression, hurt and shocked because of his stupid remarks made his heart tingle in a very uncomfortable way. 

One thing was being severe and one thing was being rude for no reason at all. 

But the thing is that you were everywhere and he hated it. 

Doyoung hated that you were trying to get under his skin. 

Like a scent. Like some kind of drug. 

He’d scrub his hands and forearms even harder before going inside the surgery room as if with the water and soap he could get rid of the feeling of your arms around his torso under the rain too. 

What were you even thinking? Asking for reassurance? From him? Reassurance from the most hated man in the whole hospital? What did you even expect? Why would you even try? 

What a reckless person. 

He noticed it the first time he saw you as well. 

Eyes wide with curiosity and surprise, looking around the ER like it was the best place in the world. Doyoung hated your happiness but he also hated the fact that he would have to assist that light slowly die out with time. 

Or at least he thought that would happen. 

Days after days, months after months, he paid attention like a scientist looking at his object of study, taking mental notes and registering results. Doyoung would jolt with secret joy when his theories would reveal themselves to be true but then, like a rollercoaster, he’d feel weighed down with grief seeing you in the same state as his one. 

Until he didn’t know what to desire to see anymore. 

Until one day he lifted his eyes, head full of a soliloquy towards you. “How are you today? Tell me you got better. Tell me you still have your light because no one needs too many black holes in here.” 

Until he realized that he couldn’t remember anything about his life before you. 

And when you hugged him that day, he felt proud. For your success and your light. 

You were a star and he bathed into that warmth for a little before remembering he was still a black hole and black holes attract stars until engulfing them whole with no turning back.

_________

“Why are you always around?” he blinked annoyed. 

You straightened your gown that shifted after bumping into him and sighed loudly. 

“In case you forgot, I work here.” 

Doyoung sighed. 

“This is the farthest yard from where you’re always playing with your friends.” 

“I had business coming here.” 

“What business?” 

“That’s my business.” 

Doyoung’s corner of the mouth twitched. 

“It’s our business.” 

“Are you a communist?” you placed your hands on your hips, tilting your head to the side. 

“I’m your superior. What are you doing here?” 

A few nurses whispered passing you by and you cleared your throat, trying to relax your face muscles. Doyoung rolled his eyes once upon seeing your new fake cordial expression. 

“Apparently I’m doing such a good job that Mr Jung wanted to compliment me,” you raised your chin. 

“Mr Jung?”

“Yes.” 

His nostrils widened as if he had too much air to inhale and didn’t have time to get it little by little. 

“He doesn’t just summon people to compliment them. Stay away from him.” 

You scoffed incredulously at his innuendo. 

“Are you hearing yourself?” 

“Very well. Get back to work now.” 

“Are you perhaps jealous?” the words slipped from your mouth before you could stop yourself. 

But Doyoung, to your biggest surprise, smirked a little, lifting his eyebrows once. 

“And if I were?” he asked, then walked around you, leaving you still for long moments in the corner of the corridor before being able to walk again.

_________

“And then he said, “and if I were?”

Jaemin gulped his food and chuckled. “I can’t imagine that.” 

“I know right? Was he crazy?” you asked with your mouth full, swinging your knife. 

“Maybe the director does have eyes on you. And-” he leaned in mischievously, avoiding your cutlery, “that’s why he acts as if he hates you. Because he has feelings for you.” 

You chuckled nervously. 

“He hates you too!” 

“He doesn’t even know I exist,” Jaemin shrugged. 

“Hey, Jaemin.” 

“Like once I asked him something and he thought I was a patient and when I said that I’m actually-” 

“Jaemin! I’m pretty sure I’ve just seen someone looking like you pass that door just now.” 

The young man turned around quickly, right in time to see himself exit the food hall. 

“Damn,” he laughed for a few moments. “Someone else copied my hairstyle. I guess I’m not that unnoticeable as I thought.” 

You opened your mouth to comment on that since you were pretty sure it wasn’t only the hairstyle that the man copied when Doyoung approached your table like a storm scaring the shit out of you. 

“What is it now?” he asked, eyes piercing through you. 

You let out a long “uhhh” before talking, staring him up and down. 

“Are you talking to me?” 

Doyoung scoffed then sighed. “A doctor told me you were urgently looking for me.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Who?” 

“Do I look like someone who knows people’s names?”

Jaemin shook his head. 

“Well, I don’t need you,” you let him know. 

Doyoung sighed again and the long look you exchanged made Jaemin awkwardly chuckle once. 

“You can sit down with us for lunch, sir,” he offered and you inhaled sharply, kicking his leg under the table. 

Doyoung looked firstly at you then at Jaemin then at you again as if not believing he was actually talking to people like you. 

But the tray in his hands was getting heavy and there were no other empty tables. 

He walked around Jaemin and sat down near him. 

Then he rolled his sleeves and started to eat in silence. 

But only for a moment. 

“What?” he asked as you were both staring at him with hanging open mouths. 

“It’s our first time seeing you eat,” you whispered. 

Doyoung gulped the food. “I’m putting on a show for you guys. I’m a vampire that doesn’t need food.” 

“See!” you hit Jaemin’s hand as if catching his attention. “He’s making jokes!” 

Jaemin leaned back in his chair as if a little afraid. 

“So you talk about me instead of working,” Doyoung commented. 

His eyes were on you and you suddenly realized what you’ve just said. 

“No,” you quickly grabbed your glass and sipped the water. 

Doyoung looked at Jaemin and the young man secretly nodded a little. 

And for the first time in years, you saw Doyoung smile. 

Like a full-on smile. A big open smile with all the teeth out. 

You blinked fast and before realizing your own lips were stretched in a smile too.  

He was breathtaking. 

You wanted to run away but also crash into him. You were at the top of the world and down in the dumps.

__________

The grunt you let out after hitting a hard surface resonated in the whole hallway. 

For the second time. 

"You are always where you shouldn't be."

You lifted your pained eyes while massaging your shoulder just to see Doyoung do the same. 

"Where am I and where am I supposed to be then?" you asked. 

"Around me and you should be far away from me." 

"And if I say that I'm doing it on purpose?" 

Doyoung's pupils trembled. 

"To make you mad," you explained, the little smile creeping on your lips making him tighten his. 

“You’re trying to make me mad?” 

In your head, all of the conversations you would have with Doyoung sounded fun and risky in a good way. 

In reality, you realized, it was so overwhelming that you felt your limbs shake. 

“I’m joking, sir.” His intense eyes made you look over the windows. 

“You don’t like to look at me in the eyes?” his voice was mellifluous just as his movements, getting slowly closer to you. 

“Your eyes make me uneasy,” you replied honestly. 

Doyoung tilted his head to the side, curious, inviting you to say more. You looked at him again. 

“As if they don’t know fear,” your voice was tiny. 

A little smile curved the man’s lips. “Oh, but they know what fear is.”

“And what is that?” 

“What you’re feeling right now.” 

"I am not afraid," you whispered. 

"Then why are you stepping back?" 

“I am not stepping back.”

Yet the air got softly knocked out of your lungs as you felt the wall on your shoulder blades. 

Doyoung didn't reply and just got as close as to lightly brush your lower lip with his knuckle. 

"You're cute when you pout," he whispered, eyes smiley under the strands fallen from his styled fringe. 

You opened your mouth to talk but he walked away, leaving you alone and with an abnormally beating heart. 

Again.

__________

If Doyoung’s newly humorous side was something interesting to share with Jaemin, his newly flirtatious side was something you felt the need to keep a secret. 

Heated up, you walked the corridors like a storm. 

Kim Doyoung? 

Did your body really react that way towards Kim Doyoung? 

Pulse throbbing in places you didn’t want to think of? 

Because of Kim Doyoung? 

Face buried in your wet hands, the cold water running in the sink, you imagined telling this to your younger self. 

Then you lifted your head and turned it off, raising your gaze to look at your dilated pupils in the bathroom mirror.

_________

Doyoung didn’t care about people much. 

Hours upon hours of surgery, he only needed to see his colleagues’ hands and hear their breaths while desperately trying to save yet another life. How they looked without the caps and masks was not something of interest to him, especially knowing superfluous details like their names. 

Yet, when he briefly noticed the eyes of the second surgeon entering the room, Doyoung furrowed his eyebrows. 

Those were not your eyes and those were definitely not your hands in the latex gloves. 

And for the first time, he needed to know who that person was.

“I’m Lee,” the man whispered. 

“I didn’t know you were on schedule today.” 

“Yeah, heard about it last minute as well.”

Were you avoiding him? 

If Doyoung’s body could show tremor, he’d had trembling legs under the desk he sat at after the surgery, and if he’d had the habit to bite his nails, he’d be ferociously eating them by now.

Unfortunately, he was stoically sitting in his office, elbows pressed into the hard iron surface, veins missing adrenaline but aggravated eyes. 

Walking the corridors while people took a step back to make him pass, looking away when he’d look at them and whispering angrily behind his back, was a bliss. 

The protection shielded Doyoung like a fuzzy blanket even if it sometimes felt itchy at night when he found himself the most lonely. 

So when you did the same, passing him by as if hating him, he surprised himself at the sudden discomfort. Especially after

well,

after that. 

He wasn’t sure himself what it was but it must have been something if it made you uncomfortable enough to not show up to a surgery. 

He lifted the corner of his blanket for a moment and he fucked up. 

__________

“Y/N.” 

You stopped in place. 

And so did most people around you. 

Many found Doyoung scary but also interesting to observe when his spite wasn’t directed at them. 

What did she do? you could almost hear the whispery words passing from ear to ear, amused voices, grateful for not being in your place. 

“See me in my office,” Doyoung ordered after you slowly turned around. 

His voice was low and no one could have heard it if the whole yard didn’t just collectively hold its breath. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“You all are surely not working enough if you have time to be useless,” his voice sounded louder and clean all of a sudden. “Do you want some hours assigned?”  

Like a spell, everyone looked around and the buzz filled your ears back, leaving yourself and Doyoung the only still figures. 

Then he moved as well, the swoosh of his cloak touching your hand when he passed near you. 

You inhaled deeply and followed him.

_________

“I am sorry.” 

You wished you’d  accepted his offer to sit down because that single sentence floored you. 

“For what?” you asked with a tiny voice. 

“I know I often say things that I don’t mean. And I know that I might have made you feel uncomfortable. So I apologize.” 

His eyes were round and filled to the brim with such sincerity to make you swallow hard. 

“You don’t have to apologize. It was necessary to make me who I am,” you minimized. 

Doyoung looked away for a brief moment. “I mean the corridor incident.” 

You blinked at him. 

“I made a mistake,” he added. 

The first thing that came to mind was the urge to use that to your advantage. 

Scold him. Make him feel guilty. 

Kim Doyoung making a mistake. 

Exhilarating. 

The power suddenly surging in your veins went to your head so you suppressed the smile that so desperately wanted to bloom on your lips. 

“Yes.” 

His expression darkened even more at your reply and his adam apple moved as he swallowed. He actually hoped it wasn’t the case. 

“I’ll make sure to keep the surgery schedules separated so you won’t feel uncomfortable working with me. You could have asked me first though before changing it yourself.” 

The excitement died out with these words. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Thursday’s surgery.” 

“I was told you appointed another person yourself.” 

“I did not.” 

“Well, I didn’t either.” 

“So-” 

“It’s not like I’m trying to avoid you, no. But if you-” 

“I’m not trying to avoid you either. But you said I made you uncomfortable, so-” 

“I was messing with you.” 

He finally went silent. 

“You looked so guilty that I wanted to get a little revenge,” your voice came out a timid whisper. 

Doyoung sighed, closing his eyes a little, then he stood up. 

“Did I seriously cause you that much pain all of this time?” he walked towards you as if actually concerned. 

“You made me cry almost every day.” 

He opened his mouth like a fish before closing it. The shocking confession made him lift one hand to cup your face. 

You both looked at it with fluttering eyes as if it wasn’t his. 

He tried to put it away quickly but you pressed your palm on it to keep it in place.  

“I’m joking. I only cried a few times.” 

Doyoung’s pupils danced around just like his brain trying to process the information you were giving him. His face, confused and not knowing anymore what was a joke and what wasn’t, amused you a lot. 

“I’m sorry I’ve been harsh. I’ve been-”

“A jerk.” 

He gulped, his thumb slowly brushing your cheekbone. 

That little gesture made you close your eyes for a moment. And when you opened them, you just leaned in and placed a quick and chaste kiss on his closed lips. 

“If the corridor thing was a mistake for you, I just did one too. Don’t be too hard on yourself. We can pretend nothing of this happened."

You let his hand go and moved to take a step back just to feel his hold on your face tighten. 

Pulling you towards him again, he added the second hand. 

His lips were not closed anymore, but very much open to welcome your lower lip between them. 

Your hands flew to his hair and pulled him towards you too. He hummed and you whined. And when you both needed air, you let yourselves go, panting against each other’s lips. 

A little smile curved your lips, eyes unable to look up. Fingers on his neck, you let them slowly descend to his chest and you took a step back. 

You took your lower lip inside your mouth for a moment, as if still trying to taste him and walked a few steps back. 

Doyoung followed you, unable to let your body go until you touched the door. His eyes were blown out and he kissed the corner of your mouth again, and again, and again, until kissing you fully on the lips for the second time. Hands on the glass behind your head, you heard his nails grating at it slowly as you let your tongue twirl with his. Then you breathed out and he couldn’t do anything else than just moving his arms away for you to slowly open the door and leave in silence. 

After the door closed, Doyoung pressed his forehead on the cold window. 

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself, the fuzzy blanket he carefully wrapped himself with all of those years slowly slipping away to his feet.

__________

It didn't surprise you to see Doyoung pretend nothing happened between you as you passed each other in the corridors. 

But his avoidance felt weirder than usual, even to external eyes, as if something happened indeed and he tried so hard to conceal it. 

"Perhaps it's the 5th coffee talking right now, but doesn't Doyoung look weird?"

Jaemin asked lazily as he rested his body on one elbow placed on the little resting room counter. Said man passed in front of the open door and the furtive look he took of you was interesting enough for someone bored like Jaemin to notice. 

You shrugged, quickly stirring the sugar in your own coffee. 

"Hm?" your friend smiled at your silence, getting closer. 

You sipped the drink. 

"Hmmm?" Jaemin put his face into yours. 

"Oh my God, get away," you tried to push him away. 

"You had sex."

You spat the little coffee you still had on your mouth. Jaemin giggled and took a step back before it could land on his own. 

"We did not have sex! What's wrong with you?" 

"Okay. So you at least kissed," he looked up to you under his wiggly eyebrows as he handed you a few napkins. 

"We-," you wanted to deny but your lips formed a frustrated smile instead. "Shit. I can't believe it either." 

"Wow."

"He was- so delicate," you murmured. 

Jaemin winced amused. 

"But also intense you know? Like it felt-" 

"Okay wait. I didn't ask for a full-on description," he made a puking expression at you. 

You lightly hit his arm. 

"I was just so surprised. I've never seen this side of him."

"Him liking people?" Jaemin giggled. “Yeah. That’s weird.”

__________

"So it's done. We're done. Let’s get the fuck out of here. Seeing myself around is creeping me out."

Haechan sighed, rolling around in his chair. "Not so quickly. They only kissed."

Jaemin furrowed his eyebrows. 

"They have to confess," Jeno explained with a sleepy voice, sprawled on his own chair. 

"But they love each other."

"They have to say the words."

Jaemin put his hands on the hips. "That's so stupid." 

“Tell this to Doyoung. This is what he wrote in the contract,” Haechan mumbled amused, patting his chest where the Book was snuggly packed near his heart. 

Jaemin grabbed another chair and sat backwards on it, resting his chin on the folded arms. 

“So you know the job is done when they confess? What if they break up afterwards?”

“It has never happened before.” 

“And what if it does happen?” 

Jeno opened one eye. “Don’t manifest doom.” 

“I’d probably have to come back and get them together again,” Haechan replied. 

“I still don’t know why you’re doing this. Can’t you just recede from that contract?” 

Haechan sat up properly and grabbed his water bottle. “And do what? Go back to the pits of hell?” 

His eyes twinkled with mischief. 

“I’ve never had this much fun in a very long time.”

__________

He brought it upon himself, he could admit that. 

Ignoring you was more difficult than he anticipated and the first reaction he managed to put out when you talked back to him in front of all of the other surgeons was his usual skin cutting one. 

You didn’t like it, he could see it. 

You’ve never liked it and, honestly, Doyoung could not think of a single person that enjoyed being on the other side of his table. 

Perhaps you were getting a little comfortable with him though because you leaned back in your chair and smiled. As if for once he couldn’t get to you. 

It made him even more eager to scratch that nonchalance. 

So he did. 

Until the meeting was over and he got back to his office with a weird sensation on his shoulders. It somehow tasted like defeat. 

And when you opened his door with a loud bang and got in, he inhaled and took a few steps back, imitating the steps you took forward. 

You pushed him down on the chair, your gazes mixed together just like your breaths as you leaned down. 

Only the sheer anticipation of you touching him made him lose his mind a little. 

One hand on his thigh and the other going down from his lips to his extended neck and chest, dragging your nail on his shirt until reaching his stomach and belt. 

Then you hit one of his feet to the side with yours, making him open his legs even wider. 

He jolted and you could visibly see the way his breath stopped for a moment. 

"I don't think someone else tried to put you in your place before."

Your voice was dark and his eyelids fluttered before his pupils could fall on the way your palm brushed his crotch. It twitched under his dress pants and he inhaled deeply. 

"Unfortunately, it has to be me." 

"We're at work-," he tried to speak but the words died in his throat as you cupped his balls. 

"Sorry? Didn't hear that." 

"Shit Y/N-," Doyoung closed his eyes, jaw muscles tightening as you gently massaged him. 

"Hmm, Doctor Kim is at a loss of words?" 

You cooed, leaning down even more until almost brushing his lips with yours. 

"So cold and composed while you spit venom all day. I really want to see you lose your mind for once."

He opened his eyes right when he started to pant lightly and you gulped upon seeing his dark gaze. 

"You'll regret this."

"Can't wait to feel regretful."

"Be careful."

"Don't want to." 

His smile grew suddenly wicked and it threw you off as he suddenly stood up, grabbing your wrists and pushing you gently backwards. 

"You’ve been loving fighting with me lately. I think that you just need to get laid."

You smiled. "Do you want to help me with that?" 

Doyoung scoffed once. "I can't stand you."

"Then sit down."

He put his tongue inside the cheek, staring at your raised chin. 

Then his hands suddenly crept around you and grabbed your ass. They squeezed, pulling your hips towards his, making you pant and palm his chest in the meantime. Body pressing on his and his low voice buzzing into your ear made you light headed. 

"Arguing with you turns me on so fucking much." 

You gulped and noticed the way Doyoung’s eyes fell on your open mouth. 

“This is a very pretty shade of lipstick. Makes me want to ruin it.”

His thumb opened up your shocked lips even more by tugging at the lower one, your eyes getting hazy from his expression cutting you in half.

“Suck.” 

The order made your legs buckle a little. Your pupils trembled when you slowly let your tongue touch his fingertip. Doyoung got impatient and pushed it until it was all in. You fought the urge to gag and just whimpered, grabbing his shirt into your fists as he watched you hollow your cheeks on it. 

“I’ve always wanted to make a mess out of you,” he murmured, his other hand cupping your face and feeling your jaw, going down to your neck and wrapping it into its warmth. You raised your face to give him more space and your hooded eyes trying to look at him as he pressed around your throat made him smirk. 

“You like that?” he watched your squirming body trying to get closer to him. He took a step back and rested his hips on his desk, pulling at you until you felt his thigh between your legs. 

“What a slut,” he took out his thumb and spread the saliva on it on your lips. “Bet you wanted to suck me off under the desk, didn’t you? Fuck your superior?” 

You started to breathe through your mouth, the hand wrapped around your throat making it difficult for you to form any thoughts. 

“Or you wanted me to bend you over it?” he murmured, eyes glazing over your breast, his free hand painting one line from your collarbones to the cleavage of it. And when he suddenly squeezed one, feeling its softness in his palm, you almost cried out and dug your fingers into his shoulders. 

“Yes, sir.” 

Doyoung’s corner of the lips lifted as if curiously surprised. 

“And if I don’t do any of those things?” his eyes were on your face now and it made you want to hide away or just beg him to just please do all of those things.

“What are you going to do?” he asked again. 

The pool of wetness inside your panties was so embarrassing that you pressed your forehead on his shoulder. 

"Then just let me go," you whispered in a tiny voice. 

"You're free to g-" he caressed your jaw with one thumb. 

"No. I hate it," you went on, lifting your gaze on him, and he exchanged the look, slightly taken aback. 

"I dream about you every night. It's not about sex, it has never been just about it. Everything about you makes me go crazy. I hate it and I want you to just let me go.” 

Doyoung blinked and cupped your face with both hands. 

You just breathed out, ignoring the little voice screaming inside your mind to shut up, palming the back of his hands with yours, suddenly unable to raise your eyes on him. 

"I just can't understand and I hate being like this," you added after a quick gulp. 

The man opened his lips and you noticed the way you started to breathe in unison. 

"There's something so darkly attractive about you," the tiny sigh coming out of your lips made their way on Doyoung ones and he licked them once, his own breath warm on your skin. 

"No matter how much I try to know you, there's something that escapes me. I can't pinpoint you and it keeps me up at night." 

Doyoung gulped and his hands twitched as they palmed your arms, going down to your hips and pushing you down, gently. 

You gasped silently, your core so swollen that the feeling of the friction of your bodies as you rubbed on him could have been enough to make you orgasm. 

"Sir-," you found the force to talk but he took his tongue out and you just dove in, catching it inside your mouth and sucking on it the way you sucked on his finger. Your eagerness made his hold even tighter, guiding your body rolls, loving the way you squirmed in his arms. 

When you pulled away to whine he raised one hand to bury in your hair. 

"You haunt me too," he confessed. "Sometimes I feel so pulled towards you to make me question everything I know about myself."

Your eyes fluttered and your exposed throat looked so vulnerable in Doyoung's eyes to make him lean in and bite on it. 

The little moans escaping your lips caressed his ears and when he licked the spots you shivered, your hips not stopping for a second. 

It was intoxicating and you didn't dare to speak again but your thoughts were seeping through all of your pores. 

"I want you to tell me what you want me to do," you whispered, words broken.  

"Don't cum," Doyoung ordered and it snapped something in you. 

Your breath grew irregular and he chuckled. 

With a little groan, you forced your hips to still but he looked down and clicked his tongue, pushing his thigh upwards and making you bounce on it a few times.  

"Don't stop."

"But you said-" 

"Don't cum and don't stop." 

"I can't last," you mewled, twitching against his body and he pouted. 

"Baby girl can't keep that in?" 

You shook your head, feeling all dizzy as his hands squeezed your asscheeks, making you rub against his leg again. 

"But I said what I said. Are you going to be a bad girl?" he accompanied his last word with a harsh slap on your ass that made you inhale through your teeth. 

"Sir- I am begging you." 

His hand dropped under your skirt that moved to your thighs in a single movement, the coldness of it on your hot clit making you cry out. 

He hummed amused, slowly pressing into you and circling your sensitive bud until your legs started to twitch. 

"If you want to cum," he stopped, "you'll have to do whatever I say. Is this an agreement?" 

You nodded quickly, so close to orgasm that you started to ride his fingers by yourself. 

He retrieved his hand and pressed it on your stomach, making you step back until you barely could keep your balance. 

"You know where I live, right?" 

You nodded confused. 

"See you later then," he smirked and gestured to leave the office. 

You inhaled deeply, the arousal so high that you considered just finger fucking yourself in front of him. 

"Cruel," you whispered. 

"And you love it," was his amused reply.

__________

Timid feet in front of Doyoung's entrance door, you questioned if you actually lost your mind. 

Were you really willing to go this far for a single orgasm? 

Or multiple, you considered. 

Okay. Well, perhaps it was all worth it in the end. 

Your eyes darted upwards to take in the view of his house. 

The windows were lit on the first floor and it looked like a place you'd love to spend your life in. It was too huge for a single person anyway. 

When he opened the door after the ring announcing your arrival you didn't expect to see him in casual clothing. It looked so off that for a moment you couldn't speak, eyeing his feet in warm socks instead of rubber shoes. 

Then you hit yourself in your mind. Of course, he won't wear his doctor gown at home. 

"Good evening," you finally smiled and he eyed your body with a relaxed gaze, stopping when noticing the bottle of wine you carried in your hands. 

“Good evening,” he gestured to you to come in and you walked the distance from the doorstep to the hallway. His hands draped your shoulders and you sighed when he took your wet coat away. 

You put in a lot of effort in your appearance, choosing the right clothing and accessories. 

And he put a lot of effort into arranging his house for you, lighting up the right candles, you noticed after he indicated a room to the left. 

Yet all you wanted to see was him. 

And all he wanted was to see was you naked. 

Venturing in slowly, you turned around looking at what you figured out was the living room. With the corner of your eyes, you saw the grey of Doyoung’s sweatpants disappear upstairs and it suddenly got silent, safe for the crackle coming from the chimney and the hard rain hitting the windows. You took off your shoes and cautiously walked on the dark wine-coloured rug, close enough to warm yourself. A black glassy mirror was hung on the wall in front of you showcasing the pitiful state you were in because of the storm. Then you looked at the piles of books scattered around your feet placed down in a chaotic path leading to the velvet couches behind you as if someone read them while circling the room and suddenly let them fall on the ground when bored. You followed the spines with your gaze trying to figure out the language they were written in when two feet made their appearance in your peripheral vision, making you snap your head up. 

He approached you with a little smile, getting closer and closer like a black cat. 

New thick energy made it difficult for you to breathe too deeply so you resorted to short inhales and exhales especially after he stopped so close to you. 

Doyoung's hands wrapped yours as he took the wine away and placed it on the coffee table on his left. Then he sighed and you found yourself shivering under his gaze. 

"Take this off," he lightly felt your shirt's material with his fingertips.  

What? You inhaled, mind buzzing at how easy it was this time. No dinner and fancy courtship? 

He did look like someone that'd rather take you into seclusion and have you for himself as quickly as possible though. 

With slightly trembling fingers that you'd never get in the surgery room, you started to unbutton your top. Doyoung tilted his head to the side with a little smirk as if enjoying the show. 

And when you actually found yourself with only your bra on he smiled, even more, eyes grazing your skin slowly until you felt a heatwave shake your limbs. 

“This too.” 

He slowly touched the bra fabric and you gulped. 

“Take it off yourself.” 

Doyoung chuckled once and went around your torso, unclasping it with quick and expert fingers. 

You jolted and you felt your eyelids flutter as it slowly fell down your arms. 

Doyoung grabbed the front part of it and dragged it down to the floor, adding it to the weird maze of books making the eccentric design of his living room. 

His eyes caressed your perked nipples and you tried hard to resist the urge to cover yourself. 

“Pants,” he ordered and his voice was deeper than usual. 

You wavered a moment and he lifted his eyebrows once. Do it. 

You inhaled and slowly opened the zip. 

He bit his lower lip when you bent down to discard the piece of clothing and when you straightened your back he hummed. 

“Wear this,” he gently threw a piece of fabric towards you which you caught quickly. It was soft and it smelled like him. 

He looked at it, then slowly raised his eyes to meet yours, not moving a single muscle. 

You inhaled in again, trying to calm your nerves, desperately wanting to ignore the way he was dressed himself. A white and see-through shirt with the deepest neck you’ve ever seen, barely covering any of his chest. You barely could see his sweatpants as well, but his bare ankles were fully on display, just like his forearms that you could catch glimpses of as he absentmindedly revived the locks blocking his pupils with one hand. 

A raw playfulness made his features even scarier in the dim lighting. 

“I want you wet. But not from the rain,” he explained, eyeing your confusion. 

“You could have just told me to change into it and end it there,” you mumbled, buttoning the shirt up. It was deep blue and oversized, short on your thighs but hiding whatever you had to hide. 

“Why? Did you hate that I made you undress in front of me?” 

“It was embarrassing to stand naked like that.” 

You wanted to sound offended but the pout your lips formed on its own betrayed your secret amusement. 

“Nothing that I won’t see up close soon.” 

His voice was a whisper that forced you to look away. You wanted to reply but he turned around walking towards the kitchen. 

"Besides, I made some spicy sauce. You don't want to spill it on your nice clothes."

“Who said I was going to spill food on myself? I have steady hands.” 

You walked over him, taking the plates from his hold and placing them down on the dining table yourself. 

You wanted to look unbothered by him just like he looked unbothered by you, but the truth was that you just had to do something to not feel that overwhelmed. 

“You don’t,” he argued following you near the table. 

You scoffed lifting your head to look at him. “Excuse you? I’m a surgeon.” 

“Your hands don’t look like the hands of a surgeon when you’re around me.” 

You scoffed. 

“I think that the biggest thing in the world is your ego.”

“You haven't seen my-”

“Don’t say it.” 

He closed his mouth as the little smile he had on kept lingering on his lips. 

Domestic and flirty. It was getting to your head and you hadn’t had the opportunity to sip a single drop of alcohol yet. 

As if reading your mind, he grabbed the bottle of wine you brought and fumbled slowly with the cap. 

"That's my favourite shirt. And I want to fuck you in it." 

The shivers that travelled down your spine almost made your body twitch and your hands stopped in mid-air as you were placing the cutlery. 

He smiled at you when you looked at his expression. 

His lips. His eyes and cheekbones. His skin under the lights. 

Fuck. You really needed a drink. 

And after he popped the bottle open with a loud sound that disrupted the silence, the red wine erupted out of it, dripping off his hand up to the wrist you had your drink right off his fingers. 

Doyoung’s pupils trembled as you leaned in like a cat and his lips opened to breathe better seeing you lick the drops off his fingertips. Rested with his hips on the table, it creaked when you came forward, even more, hands pressed on his open thighs and reaching for his face. You finally caught his lips in yours and you let him taste the wine on your tongue. 

It was rich and slightly sour, then it became sweet as only Doyoung’s taste remained lingering on his lips. 

“Delicious,” he commented after the slow kiss. “You have good taste in wine.” 

“And men.” 

His expression was hidden under his long fringe but you could sense that he was smirking. 

Then he raised his head a bit and had a gulp out of the bottle himself. 

You had the first row to the show that his adam apple moving up and down gave you. Then your eyes naturally fell to his collarbones and bare chest, his white shirt barely covering anything. 

Your fingers gently darted to his skin and you palmed it, then to his prominent collar bones, feeling the warmth of his chain around his neck.

He hummed, letting his head down to catch your hand with his lips. They kissed your fingertips then he finally dove in and let you taste his tongue again, hands quick to let the bottle go and grab your body instead.

Closer closer closer you needed him more and more. 

“I need to feed you dinner first,” he grabbed your wrists as your hands tried to unbutton his shirt. 

“If you won’t fuck me, I can find someone else to do it,” you whispered. 

His eyes tightened and he exhaled once. 

The movement was so quick that your head spun and the spank that arrived at your ass made you jolt on your toes before you could lean down on the table, fingers trying to grip the tablecloth. 

“Yeah? I want to see you get fucked by someone else while my name spills out of your filthy mouth.” 

His voice was raspy and it made you bite your lower lip, ass eager to push back and to rub against Doyoung's crotch. He hummed at your movements and lifted the shirt up to your waist, palming your skin and looking down at the way your ass cheeks engulfed your pretty lingerie. You strained your neck upwards at the feeling of his fingers slowly caressing your lower back, feeling the lace of your panties, then you whimpered as he grabbed the material and stretched it towards him before letting it go. 

"You want this little hole all filled up, don't you?" he murmured, hand sliding between your thighs to rub on the soft and thin fabric. Your legs shifted in place at the sensation and you arched your back for more. The little 'Doyoung' making him exhale. 

"And I thought you'd keep calling me sir." 

You tried to turn your head towards him, wondering if his suddenly absent hand meant that he wanted you to actually call him that. 

But then you saw that hand around you, reaching for the bucket of ice prepared for the wine on the table in front of you. And at that moment you realized that it was for you instead - his drink for the night. 

The ice cube wetted his fingers when he took it out and he first placed it on your open lips. You sucked on it for a moment, the warmth of your skin already melting it, strands of water slowly descending on your chin and inside your cleavage. 

"Say 'blue' and I'll stop," his voice was deep near your ear. 

You nodded breathlessly and you shivered feeling his hand hover over your back. 

And when you first felt it on your spine, your fingers independently grabbed the edge of the table. Then it went down and down, forcing goosebumps out of you. 

Doyoung’s palm soothed your skin, warming it up before reaching to the front to grab at your hard nipples poking through the fabric. And when the cube reached your clothed core you mewled, lifting yourself on the tiptoes. 

“Shit-shit-,” you curled your neck down, jolting under his touch, wanting more of it and running away at the same time. 

Your panties were all wet and you were unsure if for the ice or your own body and when Doyoung took away the cube, giving you a break by gently pressing his own wet fingers between your lips you wished for the fabric to not be there anymore. 

“More?” you whined, chest rising and falling at a crazy speed. 

Doyoung snickered once, his hands grabbing your sides and turning you around.

Mind hazy, you didn’t have the time to wonder where the ice cube went, the only thought roaming your head being the need to pull him closer to you. 

And you did just that, wrapping his waist with your thighs after he lifted you on the table with a thud, making all the cutlery and glasses jingle. 

And you clasped your fingers into his hair while his hands roamed your naked body under his shirt. 

It was when he pressed his cold, open lips on yours that you finally mewled, feeling the ice cube travel from his tongue to yours. 

It got smaller and you sucked on it, giving it back, hearing him hum deeply into the kiss. 

Then he broke it suddenly as if unable to control himself from kissing your neck instead, biting and sucking on your skin as hard as he did on the ice cube. You rolled it on your tongue until it became nothing, finally opening your lips to moan, feeling his cold touch on your breasts as his quick fingers unbuttoned the shirt. 

The material of your panties grazed your legs at Doyoung’s rough pull. You watched them fly and land on the lamp behind him. 

Then you felt his fingers finally rubbing your clit and you inhaled deeply. You were so horny that you were embarrassed to admit that just a few rubs would be able to throw you over the edge. 

Doyoung saw it and from his expression, he was enjoying himself maybe too much. 

“Come on love, cum for me,” he murmured on your open lips. You whined, nail digging into his shoulders and you shook your head. 

“You’ve been begging me for an orgasm and now you want to be a brat about it?” 

His hand worked quicker and when he inserted one of his long and slender fingers inside, you actually moaned loudly. 

“Sir-” the title slipped from your shaking lips and he chuckled against your cheek, pushing another one and curling them both, pressing into you and trying to find the sweetest spots you had. 

“Right here?” he whispered amused. 

You start swearing, moulding his biceps under your tight grip, the table and everything on it shaking at the fast pace of Doyoung’s pumping. 

And then it was too much and it overflowed. 

The gasp you emitted made you fall forwards. Your arms wrapped Doyoung’s body tightly as you came in spasms, legs trying hard to meet each other around his wrist but pressing into his sides instead. 

Doyoung let you whine a little bit more, hand slowing down but never stopping, fucking you through your orgasms as long as he could. Then your jaw got grabbed by his other hand and he lifted your face to meet his gaze. His eyes caressed your fucked up expression before kissing your lips. 

"Good girl. I know you can give me another one."

You gripped his shoulders for dear life as Doyoung's fingers came back outside to desperately rub at your over-sensitive clit. 

“Doyoung-Doyoung-” you writhed in his hold before he could slip away from your arms and fall on his knees. 

You’ve gotten head before, but this time, maybe for the overstimulation or your secret feelings for that man, it felt like the first time ever. 

Not knowing what to grab to steady yourself as his tongue danced in circles around your engorged clit, you buried your hands in his hair. His hands pressed into the softness of your thighs just as hard and when he raised his gaze up to look at you from underneath his messy fringe, you felt like falling. 

And you almost fell when he resorted to quick short licks that drove you insane, making you cum for the second time in such a short time to make you lightheaded. 

The single fuck got prolonged as much as the orgasm Doyoung gave you and when he started to kiss your inner thighs, coming up towards you, on your stomach, pressing his wet open lips on your skin until meeting your breasts, you were ready to admit that you were madly in love with him. 

His kiss felt as if you were underwater, unable to breathe and understand space. You felt his arms around you and suddenly you felt weightless and he carried you around until you felt the velvet of the couches underneath you and his body pressed flushed on yours. His waist got automatically wrapped by your legs again as if that were their place and they weren’t aware of it before. 

He slipped his hands on your hips, grabbing your ass hard as he murmured against your lips. “Are you going to be a brat with me again?” 

His voice was calm but deep as if a storm was incoming, making your knees feel weak. 

“Words,” he spoke again, pressing himself a little more between your legs. 

You breathed out. 

“I don’t know,” you managed to say before pushing him away. He fell to the side, grip softened mostly for the surprise than your strength. 

“Are you going to be a brat to me?” you asked, straddling his lap and pressing your palms on his stomach, going up on his hot skin and lifting his shirt until he couldn’t do anything else than take it off. 

Then his hands found their way on your skin too, unmercifully squeezing your soft breasts. He didn’t care to be gentle and lifting himself up he sucked on your skin so hard until it was almost painful. You wrapped your arms around his torso and threw your head back, stretching out your neck. He left bites all over it, travelling down, tightening his teeth grip around your nipples, making you pant softly. 

“I don’t know,” he finally replied. 

He looked at you from underneath his fringe and you smiled at each other. You caressed his stomach from below his belly button and going up until reaching his collarbones and he leaned back on his elbows to support his weight. He followed your hand going down on him then his eyes shifted their focus to watch how your pelvis started to move back and forth on his sweatpants, right on top of his hard cock. 

“Mm,” he exhaled as finally getting some relief and you imitated him. You placed your hands on his shoulders and closed your eyes and Doyoung flexed his thigh muscles. 

He was enjoying seeing you like that, vulnerable and whiny, needy and horny, while he did nothing to help you with it and leaving you desperate. 

His eyes caressed your whole body, his lips parted slightly at the sight of your breasts bouncing softly, at how you were spreading yourself on him. You felt hot and plump, your thoughts were blurry and foggy. 

"Look at you," he talked. “What a cute little slut.” 

You replied with a whine, locking eyes with him but not being able to do that for a long time as his gaze pierced through you, adding to the sensation his pants gave to your raw clit. 

So you kissed his lips, messily and sloppily, breathing on his mouth and he finally caressed your thighs and ass, pressing you down even more and closer to him. 

Your arms got tighter around his neck and he buried his face into your chest. His hair tickled your chin and you intertwined your fingers into his locks. 

So close to cum, you closed your eyes and just let yourself go, your rhythm lost, your muscles aching, without expecting Doyoung's fingers to suddenly get inside of you. 

You squeezed yourself onto him with a cry. 

"I repeat. Are you going to behave again as you did today?" you heard him ask as his fingers pumped fast into you. 

"No, no, oh fuck, please, no," you managed to answer while gasping for air. 

"I'm going to-" you whimpered about to orgasm and Doyoung at that moment got you off of him, pushing you down on your back and lifting your legs around him, edging you. 

"You're going to cum when I say so," he commented. "You're lucky I'm even giving it to you at all today," he added. 

You bit your lower lip frustrated. 

"Babe, please-" you begged. 

He smiled brightly at the sudden pet name, shushing you as he began to kiss your legs from the knees down, going lightly on the inside of your thigh, making you twitch as he approached your dripping pussy. But he passed over, nudging at it with his nose just to make you jolt and kissed your lower stomach, passing his tongue on the spots he bit before and continued until reaching your lips. 

Then, getting on his knees he finally got rid of his pants and underwear. 

You felt your core pulsing at the sight and breathed heavily. He tugged at your legs, dragging you until the back of your thighs touched his hips and holding himself he nudged at your entrance. You let your arms fall around your head and bit down on your hand as his tip caressed your clit. 

"Doyoung," you whined as your muscles jolted intermittently. You then felt his fingers drag on your leg until grabbing your knee and putting it on his shoulders he humped your folds. 

You let your head fall back into the couch, exposing your neck and making your breasts tighten. 

It was too much. You just wanted him to penetrate you and to make you scream. 

"I want to cum so badly, please," you begged again. 

But he acted as if not being able to hear from you. 

Your muscles twitched in pain and you lifted yourself to meet him. He pushed you down and distanced himself. 

"Behave," he warned. 

You looked at his half-closed eyes and plump lips as he bit it with his teeth. 

He was suffering as well. He couldn't take it anymore, you could tell. 

And when you took your hand to your mouth and licked two fingers, slowly, without breaking eye contact he gasped. 

You were about to suck on them, you wanted to see him going crazy, but you didn't manage to as he penetrated you right at that moment, quick and deep, with a grunt. 

"Fuck," he swore picking up the pace until the wet sounds overwhelmed the storm. 

_________

It was dark. The only light came from the fireplace bathing the living room with a red and yellow hue. 

You were both sprawled on the rug under fuzzy blankets. 

"Come sit on my face. Show me where I belong."

Doyoung’s voice was a low buzz, imitating the storm still going on as it has been the whole night. 

You rolled your eyes to the side amused, ignoring his warm hand palming your knee, nudging you to come closer. 

“You still want to go? I can’t cum again,” you pouted. 

“But I want you to cum,” he pouted as well. 

You sighed and gently got on top of him with the intent of ignoring him and finally fall asleep. 

But his expression changed when you were near enough. “I want you to be completely fucked up when I’m done with you.”

You lifted one hand to cup his cheek and kissed his nose. 

He blinked at you amused. 

“I love it when you smile like this,” you whispered. 

The dying flames danced on his face as he stared at you for a few moments. 

Then you clicked your tongue. 

“Don’t do this.” 

“Don’t do what?” 

“Don’t get all dark and distant.” 

Doyoung exhaled. “I am not.” 

“There’s so much to be proud of, don’t you think?” Your fingers gently started to draw patters on his forehead, going down on his eyes as he closed them, then on his cheeks. He opened his eyelids again after the touch and you talked again. 

“Like striving to do good. Trying. Surviving.” 

His lips opened to let out a small puff of warm air. Then he hugged you tighter and hid his face in the crook of your neck. 

You exhaled too, closing your eyes and lulling his exhausted soul. 

“I am so proud of you,” you whispered but you didn’t know if he heard you.

_________

You woke up in Doyoung's bed. 

It was huge, warm and it smelled like his laundry detergent. The sheets were soft and luscious, caressing your naked body as you shifted underneath them to look to the side. 

Your eyelids fluttered and your lips turned their corners up. 

Fighting the urge to squeal and hide your face inside the pillow, you resorted to admire Doyoung's sleeping face. 

Resting on his stomach with raised arms thrown around his head, only his eyes and ruffled hair poked out behind his bicep and shoulder. And when he slowly opened one puffy eye you giggled and it curved, showing that he was smiling too. 

"Good morning," you whispered. 

Doyoung sighed once first. "It's probably afternoon." 

His sleepy voice made your body heat up and without thinking you just got closer. He turned on his side and wrapped your body with his arms, pulling you closer to his chest. 

"Did you sleep well?" he murmured. 

"Like a baby. You exhausted me enough."

The little kiss he placed on top of your head was so unexpected to make you lift your face. 

He smiled. 

"You inspire so much tenderness in me,” he explained timidly. 

You smiled back, resting your chest on his. His hands automatically wrapped your sides as if they've always belonged there. 

"I'm glad I'm softening your edges. Now you need to behave like this with everyone else too."

"You want me to kiss the whole hospital on the forehead?" 

"Metaphorically."

"Also, I thought you loved my hard edges," he purred, shifting your body to fully rest on top of his. 

His hard cock deliciously poked your clit with its tip as his hands slowly made you roll on it. 

You exhaled and leaned down, rubbing your lips on his as you whispered. "I do."  

His smirk was lazy just like your movements. 

"So you want me just like this?" 

“I want you. I want everything you are. I want everything that you hide.” 

Your hands caressed his chest and came to cup his face. His expression wavered and you found him so vulnerable all of a sudden to make your guts twist. 

“Unleash the darkness that you have inside. Engulf me with it. I am not afraid. I want it.”

Doyoung wrapped your body tightly and pressed you down on himself even more. 

"There's no darkness inside of me anymore. Not when you're around me."

__________

From “I will not vanish” - Haechan’s backstory

The heavy door opened and closed. 

Doyoung looked over his shoulder to see a stranger approach him with slow feet. He raised his eyes and gave Doyoung a small nod. 

The other did the same and when the stranger aligned himself with Doyoung, looking over the cold city, they both exhaled. 

The silence was so deep, safe for the ambulances screaming in the distance that Doyoung found himself restless. 

The stranger leaned on the rail, resting his weight on the elbows and sighed again. 

“You know,” he started. 

Doyoung looked at him with the corner of his eyes. 

“What I like about life,” he paused, “is that you can die.” 

The stranger bit his lower lip for a moment then looked over to the other. His gaze felt so heavy that Doyoung’s arms skin got goosebumps. 

“Imagine being immortal,” the man continued before letting out a dry snicker. 

“Around forever. A pathetic being with no reason to exist besides existence itself. Forever and forever and forever. With no purpose. Until you’d beg someone to kill you but they can’t.” 

Doyoung’s fingers twitched on the cold metal of the terrace rail and for a moment his rational mind wanted to ask that stranger just what nonsense he was talking about. 

But lately, Doyoung and rationality didn’t match well so he didn’t. 

“Immortality sucks only if you’re the only immortal one.” 

The stranger smiled bitterly. “Do you want to be immortal?” 

Doyoung put his hands inside the gown’s pockets. “I’d die tomorrow.” 

“But you wish immortality was a thing.” 

“I mean, I wouldn’t have a job anymore,” Doyoung smiled. “But yes. I wish people didn’t die.” 

“You’re very selfish.” 

That remark made Doyoung frown. “How’s that selfish?” 

The stranger turned around and rested his back on the rail instead. 

“Why do you want people to not die?” 

“Because-,” Doyoung started but didn’t know what to add. “Because it’s painful.” 

“For them or you?” 

Doyoung sighed. “Okay. I see what you’re doing here.” 

The stranger smiled a little. 

“It’s not like I think only of myself when others die. I think how unfair it is when I know they didn’t have the chance to do everything they wanted to do first.” 

“And what’s that?” 

Doyoung thought about it for a moment. “Just- living. Experiences. And most of them actually had enough time to do it. They just took it for granted. And it’s so- painful.” 

“And what about you? If you said that you’d be ready to die tomorrow, I guess you’ve been living your life to the fullest with no regrets.” 

“Actually, I don’t know if I’ve been living all of this time.” 

The stranger shrugged. “Just start now.” 

“You make it seem so easy.” 

“Living? Hell yeah. You just need to give less fucks.” 

Doyoung didn’t reply. 

“If you’re ready to die tomorrow, then you should not be afraid of living.” 

The stranger’s tone deepened and Doyoung looked his way. 

“Who are you by the way?” 

“Oh,” the stranger straightened his back and extended his hand. “I’m Haechan. Nice to meet you.” 

Doyoung imitated him and shook his hand. 

It was warm and in a moment so many thoughts came to Doyoung’s mind to make him breathless. 

"I thought I had my life figured out and yet after meeting you I got shocked into awareness."

"You inspire so much tenderness in me."

“I became obsessed with you and it scares me.”

“You could have just told me. You could have told me that you fell apart. Instead, you acted like it didn't bother you at all.” 

“You are worth the wait.”

“I can't let go of you.” 

Doyoung took away his hand so quickly to almost fall backwards. 

He took a few steps on the concrete of the terrace as if trying to get as far from Haechan as possible. 

“You good?” the other asked but his face wasn’t mirroring his question. 

Instead, a plain expression was adorning his feline features and for an instant, Doyoung felt terror.  

“You’re not Haechan,” he found himself whispering. 

The man in front of him cracked his knuckles once. “And who’s Haechan?” 

“My friend.” 

“Friend? Is someone that uses somebody else a friend?” 

“He’s not using me.” 

“Isn’t he now?” 

The man started to walk towards Doyoung slowly, one finger on the rail, grating at the metal with his nail. 

“Do you believe in soulmates, Doyoung?” 

Doyoung flinched at his name on that man’s lips and started to retreat slowly. 

“I do.” 

“Soulmates are people that always find each other regardless of everything, aren’t they?” 

“Yes.” 

“And are you and Y/N soulmates if Haechan is always there forcing you together like some sort of cheap mismatcher?” the man spit out the last words. 

Doyoung gulped and his brain tried to remember how he punched him in some past life and actually win. His surgeon hands would definitely get broken in a second. 

“Don’t you want to break this cycle? Find your true soulmate?” 

“That’s Y/N.” 

“Because you say so.” 

“I don’t give a fuck about your orthodox theory, Archangel.” 

The man stretched his neck to the side and Doyoung didn't have the time to run away.

[pathfinderunlocked]

A Rat King But It’s Made Of Kindergartners - CR5 Humanoid

I’m so sorry.

Artwork by Rolf Jansson at Goodsalt.

If I told you that the Wispy Linen was in my magical girl campaign and this abomination was in my dark fantasy campaign, nobody would believe me.  So I won’t.  My players know the truth, though.

Just saying, though.  If you ever wanted to run an adventure where a bunch of small children get kidnapped by the ghost of a drow that’s trying to turn them into subterranean aberrations, and the players are trying to rescue them but the children have all gone feral and have to be knocked out and dragged back out to the surface before they can become sane again, this would make a good final boss, as all the children suddenly coalesce into one giant mass with dozens of limbs and heads sticking out in every direction.

Hopefully your players don’t somehow sneak up on the children and cast an AOE force damage spell into the room before they’ve merged into a giant ball, like one of my groups did.  At least it was nonlethal, but those kids went flying like bowling pins.  Considering I stole the entire adventure premise from a terrible B movie called Children At Play, which ends with the protagonists taking machine guns and gunning down all the corrupted children, I have no right to complain about my own players’ strategy.  I just counted that AOE spell as double damage, as if hitting a swarm, and then had the kids coalesce into A Rat King But It’s Made Of Kindergartners on their first turn.

Although this enemy isn’t literally a swarm or troop (a regular rat king isn’t either), it can be imagined sort of like one in certain ways, since it’s literally multiple creatures being represented by a single creature.  It operates under a single hive mind, however, and the kindergartners are too tightly packed to surround a creature and perform a troop attack.  If you wanted to classify it as an aberration instead of a humanoid, nobody would argue.

A Rat King But It’s Made Of Kindergartners is initially made up of at least eight children, but some might fall out of it as it takes damage.  Stronger versions of A Rat King But It’s Made Of Kindergartners have more 10 more hit points and 1 more bite attack for each child added to the tangled mass.  A Rat King But It’s Made Of Kindergartners’s CR increases by 1 for every 2 kindergartners added in this way.

For maximum effect, refer to it by its full name of A Rat King But It’s Made Of Kindergartners every single time you mention it in a sentence for the entire length of the combat.

A Rat King But It’s Made Of Kindergartners - CR 5

As they speak an ancient curse in unison, the mass of children swarm together into a pile, and then coalesce into a tightly packed ball with faces and limbs pointing in every direction.  You’ve heard stories of, in sewers, when groups of rats merge into one being to form a creature called a rat king, which possesses a hive mind and much greater strength and intelligence than the sum of its parts.  This looks like sort of a similar event, except... it’s a rat king made of kindergartners.

XP 1,600 N Large humanoid Init +4 Senses all-around vision, constituent senses; Perception +13

DEFENSE

AC 13, touch 13, flat-footed 9 (+4 Dex, -1 size) hp 63 (6d8+36) Fort +8, Ref +6, Will +4

OFFENSE

Speed 30 ft., climb 10 ft. Melee 6 bites +8 (1d4 plus grab) Special Attacks many voices

STATISTICS

Str 10, Dex 18, Con 22, Int 4, Wis 8, Cha 8 Base Atk +4; CMB +8; CMD 19 (can’t be tripped) Feats Agile Maneuvers, Weapon Finesse, Weapon Focus (bite) Skills Perception +13; Racial Modifiers +4 Perception Language Aklo plus whatever languages the constituent kindergartners speak

SPECIAL ABILITIES

All-Around Vision (Ex) A Rat King But It’s Made Of Kindergartners sees in all directions at once. It cannot be flanked.

Nap Time (Ex) A Rat King But It’s Made Of Kindergartners is made up of many individual kindergartners, and for every 10 hit points of damage it takes, one of these kindergartners goes unconscious.  As a result, A Rat King But It’s Made Of Kindergartners has 1 fewer bite attack for every 10 hit points it is missing.

Plenty Of Limbs (Ex) When A Rat King But It’s Made Of Kindergartners succeeds on a grapple check, it uses its arms, not its teeth, to maintain the grapple, even if the grapple was initiated by a grab effect on one of its bite attacks.

Constituent Senses (Ex) If any of the individual kindergartners making up A Rat King But It’s Made Of Kindergartners have darkvision, low-light vision, or any other extraordinary senses, A Rat King But It’s Made Of Kindergartners also possesses those senses.

Limited Troop Traits (Ex) A Rat King But It’s Made Of Kindergartners is immune to any non-damaging effects from spells or effects that target a specific number of creatures (including single-target spells such as disintegrate), with the exception of mind-affecting effects, as it functions under a hive mind.  A Rat King But It’s Made Of Kindergartners takes half again as much damage (+50%) from spells or effects that affect an area, such as splash weapons and many evocation spells.

Many Voices (Su) As a free action, A Rat King But It’s Made Of Kindergartners can emit a cacophony of maddening sound. All creatures within 60 feet must succeed on a DC 19 Will save or be confused for 1 round. This is a sonic mind-affecting compulsion insanity effect. A creature that saves cannot be affected by the same Rat King But It’s Made Of Kindergartners’s many voices ability for 24 hours. The save DC is Constitution-based.

[one-leaf-grimoire]

“triad”

Chapter 7: the new advisor

Lisa gets used to her new job and continues developing her strategy to defeat the Spade Devil. She meets someone special.

AO3 link

"Devils.... an attack in six months... it's enough to stress anyone out."

"I know, but at least all the captains have agreed to train hard."

I let out another groan and scratch my head, blinking away the exhaustion in my eyes. Barely a week since I was coronated, and things have gotten severely complicated. Luckily for me, being Wizard King is not much different from being an advisor to the Wizard King,  but that's not the hard part. The curse in the Heart Kingdom ended up being one placed on the Heart Queen herself: Lolopechika. It would kill her in a year, and originated from a devil in the Spade Kingdom. 

"Megicula...."

Marx looks up from his paperwork, his skin illuminated by the candlelit chandelier above. The word comes as just a whisper, my eyes out of focus as I stare blankly at the paperwork in front of me. Then, I let myself smile. 

"I suppose this could be worse... like you said, all the captains agreed to work together at the meeting today," I finally say, my voice piercing the silent office in the night. "And if I can lead this nation through a war... that surely means I'm worthy of this title."

Yes... but only if we can win.

"Yeah, you're right. But all that's going to be six months from now. I suppose you have a plan to get stronger yourself?"

"Yes..." I nod slowly, finally meeting his gaze with my own. The candlelight fails to reflect from my eyes. "Sort of. Defeating a devil could be difficult even for me, even though I'm classified as an arcane mage." I let out a soft groan. "Damn... if only I got to fight the Word Devil before."

Marx nods, his eyes flickering around the room as he considers the options. "Well, why don't you ask someone who was there? Yami, Asta, Yuno... or the Elves!" Marx smiles and holds up a finger. "Some of the Elves might know more about Devils than we do."

"Ooh, good idea!" I sit up in my chair, newfound energy filling me.  "I'll go ask right now!"

"What?! No! In fact-" Marx stands up to halt my escape. "You should go to bed! You can go see the elves after your doctor's appointment tomorrow."

"Bed? Marx, you know-"

"You need it! I know you used to not sleep, but... you're not alone in that body anymore-" Marx gulps nervously. "You need to eat and sleep like a normal human for the next nine months, to ensure the baby's health!"

Like a normal human. 

Finally, my shoulders slump in defeat. "Fine... I'll be up early, though." I let myself yawn, brushing by Marx on my way out. "I wish I didn't have to stay up so late all the time."

"You and me both. Should I hire another advisor?"

I pause for just a moment. A new advisor hasn't been hired since I was. 

"...sure."

"Good. I'll have some applications on your desk tomorrow morning."

"Thanks, Marx."

In the whole Kingdom, only four people knew that I'm carrying the child of the late Wizard King. The first, of course, is me. The second was Saida, the elf who resided within my and ended up posessing me during the recent fight. She sensed the baby and told me about it before she was released. Third is Marx, and lastly is Owen, the Royal Doctor. 

"Well, everything seems to be progessing normally."

His Qualle Operation spell removes itself from around my body, and I sit up on the examination bed to watch him write down some notes. "So? How far along am I?"

Owen cocks his head slightly as he thinks about it. "Probably about 8 weeks, maybe 10 at most." He shakes his head slightly, still thinking. "It's strange... for years, repeated examinations of your body proved to have the same results: on every level, it operates differently from a regular human's. And it still does... for the most part." His brow furrows. "Your stomach and reproductive organs were somehow reverted back to their normal state before the conception... this examination proved that much. The rest of you is the same."

"8 weeks..." My eyes widen. "Wait... that was back when I fought Vetto! And his curse crippled me-"

"That's right! And the only way you were saved was by the magic blood the Black Bulls obtained from the Witch Queen, I remember that much. The time lines up..." Owen gives me a smile. "Well, that's just a theory. In any case, you might go back to normal after the birth. I'll check up on you often."

"Right!" I swing my legs off the bed to stand up. In any case, speculating about this miracle is useless to me now. It's not like I want to have any more children after this. "I have a busy schedule today."

"I'm sure, your Majesty."

I doubt... I'll ever find a love like Julius again. 

"See you later, Owen."

There's just one fact that bothers me: In six months, the baby won't be born. 

And I can't fight if I'm pregnant... so will I have to let the others fight the Devil alone?

"It was nice of you to invite us here, Miss Wizard King."

Miss? Mrs., actually! I think, my fingers tightening around my coffee mug. It's a petty matter, but somehow I don't feel all that angry at the tease. In fact... it almost feels familiar. In a way, it's pleasent... because it makes me focus on Rhya instead of the other elf sitting across from me. 

"My pleasure. I actually have a few questions for you... you see, I don't remember much about that fight in the Shadow Palace."

"Ah, that's right! You were possessed!" Rhya chuckles a bit to himself. "By Saida, too, my sincerest apologies!"

I shake my head a little. "She wasn't that bad! At least, from what I saw of her life. We have similar taste in men, after all, so I bet we would have gotten along." Maybe, but that's not what I want to talk about! "Anyway... what I do know is that she didn't face that Devil herself. We may be facing a similar threat very soon."

"...what do you mean? Is there another Devil?"

The voice makes me freeze up for just a second. 

Remember... it wasn't his fault. 

He was manipulated. 

He was scared. 

He was used. 

And yet...

Rhya narrows his eyes, glancing between me and Patri, an icy tension growing even thicker between us. 

... I needed to invite him, because he saw the Devil along with Rhya. But- maybe I should have invited just Rhya-

"...yes. In the Spade Kingdom."

I raise my mug to my lips and take a long sip, the hot liquid rushing down into my stomach. The warmth calms me for just a moment. I can't let my feelings get in the way... this is something I have to do.

I squeeze my fist under the table. 

"We have six months to get stronger and defeat this devil. Of course, this includes me. I thought, if Saida encountered this Devil and fought it, that I would remember now. But-"

"Yeah, no, she didn't fight it. However, she was close to doing so." Rhya finally speaks up again, sensing the tension relax a little. "You see... for just a minute,  she and the Devil were together. That bastard possessed our friend Ronne, and used his body to hide among us. I didn't think much of it at the time... but when Ronne saw you, he became noticiably tense."

Patri nods along. "To be fair... everyone was a bit tense around you. I mean- around Saida." I frown, wondering if I should be offended at all. "Most elves shared similar attributes to their host human, but Saida had an extra one when she awakened... Time. She developed it rapidly, the increased mana giving her powers you didn't have at the time. When she showed up while we were with Ronne, she floated about how she had control over all aspects of time... I fought you before, but I had no idea why you had that mana... the mana that belonged... belonged to-"

The longer he spoke, the tighter my fist became. I stared at him blankly, my eyes only moving as I blinked. The movements of his mouth became fuzzy, the words mushing together. A symphony- no- a cacophony- the sound of a dull, burning rage swelling within me, desperate to be taken out upon him. 

Say his name, scum... say the name of the man you killed-

"ANYWAY- When Saida gloated to us, Ronne got real tense."

Unknowingly, Rhya steps between us. The swell relaxes, draining out to leave nothing behind once again. 

"Because she was that powerful?" I finally speak again, looking at Rhya again.

"Maybe... and he immediately sent you off to help Fana. Somewhere where you couldn't fight him." Rhya rubs his chin sleepily. "He was a Devil... and yet, he was afraid to fight you."

Afraid... to fight me? So... I posed a threat to a Devil back then. Was it just because of the magic? Or...

"Rhya... Saida, she was Simulcian, wasn't she?"

Patri glances at his friend, who freezes mid-yawn. Then, he looks back at me. "Well, I didn't know about that until recently-"

"I didn't ask you."

I don't snap at him, the words come out calmly. But Patri falls silent immediately. 

"Yeah, Saida only told a few people. But yeah, her father was a Simulcian." Rhya glances at Patri, almost like a warning. I can only imagine what's going through his head right now, but he probably wants to avoid escalating any hostility. "I never saw him- no one did. We just assumed he was one of those travelling elves. But Saida never got one of those marks-" He points at my head. "And she only ever had flame magic."

"I see..." I rub my chin as I think about it. "Elves and Simulcians are distinct species, just like Humans and Elves, or Humans and Simulcians. So it makes sense that not all traits would manifest in an elf hybrid, not even traits that manifest in a human hybrid. But when she possessed me, she got those powers... and amplified them with Elvish mana. My body still remembers that mana, and I can use it at the same capacity. So..."

For the first time in this conversation, I smile. 

"The Spade Devil might see me, a Simulcian, and feel the same way the Word Devil did."

The power to strike fear into an unearthly creature... I have that power. Because, at the end of the day, I'm not a human, am I?

"But I still need to get stronger." I shake my head, suddenly remembering my pregnancy. "If no one else can defeat the Spade Devil in six months, I need to have the power to do it with ease... even when dealing with a serious handicap. That would be a worst case sceneario."

"Handicap? Like what?" Rhya raises an eyebrow, and I know he's searching for any sign of the truth on my face. Not because he holds any malice towards me; but because he's nosey. I shift uncomfortably in my seat. 

I'm not ready to tell anyone... much less these two. I glance at Patri, who knows better than to voice his own curiousity. 

"... it's a secret. And none of your business!"

“Fine, keep your secrets!” Rhya scoffs, shooting me a drowsy grin. “Damn, you really are like Saida sometimes… secretive and stubborn.”

“Is that so? Well…” I’m not exactly sure how to take it, so I brush the comment off. It’s true, there’s a lot of shared experiences between me and my elf counterpart; our family, our powers, and even our taste in men. The first Wizard King, huh? He was here, too, but I hardly noticed him before he left. Maybe that’s a missed opportunity, but one too late to dwell on. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

“No problem!” Rhya glances at Patri, who is still silent, sitting a little awkwardly now that he senses this meeting’s end after he’s hardly contributed anything at all. I called him here because he faced the Devil, but ended up ignoring him. 

And that’s the best thing I could do right now. Because if I allow myself to think too hard about it…

“One last thing…” I set my empty mug on the table. “The Devils… where do they come from? And what do they want? And-” My brow furrows a bit. “Do they have any history with the Simulcians?”

“Well, I don’t know much. But they come from some sort of underworld, a dimension that exists separately from our own,” Rhya explains, slinging one of his arms over the back of his seat. “That Word Devil’s true name was Zagred. The only reason he managed to get into our world was because we opened a door for him.”

“A door…” I repeat, nodding along, my gaze automatically moving to Patri without thinking about it. “That door was opened with one of the magic stones, right?”

He looks a bit surprised that I’m speaking to him, but Patri recovers quickly to respond. “Right… it seems like they can only travel here with assistance from the overworld.”

“So… as for Megicula… someone in the Spade Kingdom must have opened a door for it as well. But why?”

“Not for any good reason, I imagine,” Rhya answers. “They used it to curse the Heart Queen, and they’ve already used it to conquer much of the Diamond Kingdom.”

“Yeah, I know that much.” I shake my head, the situation seeming darker and darker every minute. “We’re next… but I wonder what Megicula is getting out of this.”

We already know that some devils will work with humans. Asta’s devil seems to be an ally, for now at least, and also the Devils that he possesses. But that’s a whole other can of worms. I suspect we’ll have to call back the spy before much longer. I’m pulled from my thoughts as Patri speaks again.

“As for the Simulcians, not much is known about their history,” he says, keeping his eyes fixed on the table. “I didn’t know about them until recently, in fact. Even now, I admit that I don’t fully understand your powers… but-” He straightens up, strength returning to his voice. And for once, I don’t feel the usual surge of hostility towards him.

Patri isn’t evil… I know that much. In fact… maybe he can be quite useful to me.

“It’s lucky that you’re part Simulcian, and those powers allowed you to gain time magic. Because of that, the Clover Kingdom has a powerful arcane mage at its helm, one who will intimidate even Megicula if you’re lucky.” His shoulders slump slightly, but he doesn’t break eye contact. “I promise… to pay for my sins, I’ll do everything in my power to help you and the magic knights defeat this devil. It’s the least I can do.”

...sins…

...pay…

Patri… don’t worry about that. Your justice will come one day, from my own hands.

“...thank you.”

The words surprise even me. Words that I never expected to say to the one who killed Julius.

“I expect you to do everything I tell you to.”

“Of course, your majesty.”

“... come on, Patri, you can call me by my name.” I give him a little smile. “We used to be friends, right?”

His golden eyes widen slightly, shining with shock, guilt… and respect.

“Of course.”

-

“Well? So, did that conversation help at all?”

“Yeah, a bit.” I squeeze my clasped hands behind my back as Marx and I walk through the castle on our way back to the office. “I know what to do now… I need to go talk to my relatives. I don’t know why, but I feel like the Simulcians have some sort of history with the Devils. I may be able to tap into that history through synchronization, and unlock some information that could help us defeat Megicula.”

“History?” Marx repeats, looking a bit worried. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… well…” My footsteps slow to a stop, right by a large window. I take a moment to peer down into the city, the Kingdom that doesn’t know the threat that looms over it. 

“Every creature has a natural enemy. A sparrow and a hawk. A cheetah and a gazelle. Maybe… maybe it’s wishful thinking-”

The power to strike fear in an unearthly creature… 

“Simulcians may be the natural enemy to Devils.”

Marx and I stand there in silence for a few more seconds as my words sink in. Then, I suck in a breath and turn back to him with a smile on my face. “But that would be too good to be true! Natural enemy or not, I’ll defeat the Devil if I have to. But-” I turn to keep walking, my hand coming up to touch my stomach. “I might be handicapped badly at that time, so I’ll need your help to bolster the knights as best we can. Got it?”

I glance back to see him standing there, still thinking about what I said. “...right! And of course, I don’t want you fighting any Devils if you’re pregnant!” he finally answers, jogging a few feet to catch up to me. “Or overworking yourself for that matter…”

“Oh, right!” I grin at the thought. “You found some advisor candidates right?”

“Yep! You probably forgot to look at them this morning.”

“Marx, I’ve been busy! It’s all right, I’ll look at them now-”

Mid-sentence, I turn the corner and run right into someone coming the other way.

“Ouch!”

“Ah!”

I stumble back and look down to see the person I knocked to the ground. “Oh! Are you alright?!” I quickly offer them my hand.

It’s a girl, probably about my age, still dazed from being bumped. She blinks a couple times up at me, her pale yellow eyes slowly filling with a dawning recognition. Then, her mouth drops open.

“Y-Y-Y-”

Uh oh-  I gulp, knowing that there’s several things she could be about to say. She probably didn’t expect to run into the Wizard King today… well, I can just tell her it’s alright and move on-

“Y-your eyes…”

Her voice trails off for a moment after those unexpected words leave her lips. 

My… eyes?

Out of all my features, my eyes have always been my least favorite. It’s not something I like to think about, but they isolate me as something unusual, even before I manifested the mark on my head. All Simulcians have black eyes, eyes that reflect no light, eyes without pupils, eyes like a black hole that sucks up everything around it. They’re cold, empty eyes, but no one dares to say anything about them.

And yet…

Julius would stare into them for hours. He’d study their depth, not as if it were an oddity, but as if it were some incredible secret he was desperate to understand. 

And now, this girl, with her pale eyes the same shade as morning light, let those words pass her lips.

I don’t really know how to react. I don’t know what she’s feeling. I don’t know why that was the first thing she noticed.

But a moment later, her own eyes widen tenfold and she lets out a strangled scream. “AH! WAIT! Y-YOU’RE-” She suddenly drops to the ground, pressing her forehead against it in some kind of weird bow. “You’re the Wizard King! And I just ran into you! Oh god, I’m so so so sorry! This is all my fault, I’m so disrespectful, please execute me!”

She continues to babble on, and both Marx and I stand there, stunned at the barrage of apologies coming from this girl. “Uh… it’s okay, really!” I finally say, and she freezes. “No harm done… it happens to us all, aha-” I don’t know why, but I get real nervous the moment she looks back up at me. “Well… apology accepted? I’m not going to execute you, don’t worry-”

I cut myself off when several things dawn on me at once.

This girl.... She’s pretty. Objectively pretty. She’s curvy in all the right spots, tall, her eyes doe-like and her lips plump. Her face is round, delightfully so. She has a smattering of moles over her face and down her exposed neckline, beauty marks that look pleasant on her skin, which itself is a warm shade of tan. Everything about her is… soft. Her hair is pulled back into a bun on the top of her head, dark blue, almost black. The one imperfection on her whole being is her bangs, which look like they were hacked to pieces by a serial killer. Yet, they still frame her face so well…

But what really makes my blood run cold is her clothes. Well, it’s more of a nightgown, sheer and thin, almost indecent, the plunging neckline hanging dangerously loose over her…. Large figure. It’s an outfit I’ve seen before… and there’s only one reason why she would be wearing it in this part of the castle.

She’s… one of the King’s women…

One of Augustus’s….

“You… where were you heading just now?”

The mere mention makes her eyes fill with a puddle of emotion. Fear, sadness… repulsion. Before she can open her mouth to answer, I hold out my hand again.

“Come on, you’re coming with me.”

The girl blinks, stunned once again. “H-Huh?” Despite her confusion, she immediately reaches up to take my hand. By the time I pull her to her feet, she understands the gravity of the situation. “W-Wait! I-I have to go, or else the King-”

“If the King notices you’re gone, he’ll have to go through me to get you back.” I give her a comforting smile, ignoring the shock on Marx’s face at this impulsive decision. “Now, come on… we have a lot to talk about.”

I tell Marx to go away as soon as we get to my office. The girl nervously sits down in a chair, watching as I walk over to my desk. She gulps once before speaking. “Uh… thank you…”

“Don’t mention it,” I say, picking up my robe, which was draped over the back of my seat, before returning to her side. “Many women have been hurt by that disgusting man… including me.” Her eyes widen a bit as I hand her the robe. “Put this on… you look cold.”

Her eyes linger on me for a moment, but then she smiles. “.... thank you.” She quickly wraps it around her bare shoulders, looking as comfy as can be. The sight strikes a strange… familiarity within me. Julius used to wrap me up in his own robe all the time. Especially on cold mornings… the heat coming from my body always warmed it up in no time for him. That’s probably the reason why this girl looks so cute right now…

“I’m sorry for troubling you,” she finally says, her eyes drifting away from mine. “I look terrible today, too… to tell you the truth…” She points at her messy bangs. “I cut my own bangs on purpose this morning. I hoped he would see them, think I’m ugly, and tell me to leave!” She giggles a bit, but there’s sadness in the sound. “I was so excited to work in the castle… but I never knew this was the job until I got here.”

“That’s… terrible.” I clench my fist at my side, angry flaring up. Damn that Augustus… right when I thought you couldn’t get any worse.

“But! Now I’m here! I don’t know what I’m going to do now, though…” She sighs and suddenly holds her face in her hands. “I’m going to be in so much trouble…”

“Hey! It’s alright. I told you, I won’t let anything happen.” She lowers her hands to see that I knelt down in front of her, giving her a gentle smile. “Tell me… what’s your name?”

She’s transfixed. Hypnotized. For a brief moment, I feel a bit uncomfortable at the way she stares into my eyes. What did she mean before… what is it about my eyes she felt the need to vocalize?

“Adeline. Adeline Lethe.” Her answer is soft, almost timid. 

“That’s… a pretty name. Adeline… would you like me to fix your hair?” 

Her face lights up. “Yes! Er- I mean, only if you’re not busy-”

The scissors are already in my hand. “It’s fine! I enjoy cutting hair…” Even though I’ve never done it before… I think. Well, Julius was good at it, so I will be, too. 

I snip away carefully, and Adeline stays perfectly still. “So… what kind of magic do you have? I assume you’re nobility.”

“Yes, I am!” she responds. “But, I’m sorry to say that I’m not all that powerful or anything… My magic is celestial precognition. But it’s only in flashes… I only see things right before they happen, and there’s never any time to change it.”

“Huh… interesting…” She’s clearly not telling me everything, so I prod a bit more. “Even just a little warning can make a difference, though… but what’s the celestial have to do with it?”

“Well… I see those flashes through nature. The alignment of planets, the pattern of the stars, the position of the moon and sun… I translate those into the future. I don’t know, it’s hard to explain… mostly it’s useless, which is how I ended up in such a bad job…”

“Nonsense! In fact, I think it’s amazing!” Her eyes pop open in shock as I smile down at her once again. “Not many people have that kind of power… and…”

An idea occurs to me.

It could be helpful to have someone who gets flashes of the future by my side…

“Marx?”

“What is it?  A problem?” Marx answers through his communicator.

“No, no problem… I was thinking about that new advisor…”

I glance over at Adeline, who’s standing in front of a mirror and admiring her new haircut. 

“I think I found one.”

[harmonyrose777-blog]

Witch's Herbs for Protection

Witch's Herbs for Protection" 

* ANGELICA: All parts of this stately garden herb are incorporated into protection, exorcixms, and psychic healing rituals. According to Folklore, it brings inspiration and angelic protection. Angelica blossoms and foliage are often scattered around a home to reprl Evil & Negativity. The roots are often added to charm bags to break spells & for protection. The planetary correspondence is the Sun, and the Elemental is Fire.

* CEDAR: This herbal tree and its foliage are often worked into healing & purification spells. Cedar is a popular oil that is often included in ready-made incrossing candles. You can easily work with Cedar shavings by incorporating them into fragrant charm bags, while a wand made of a fallen Cedar branch is thought to be especially beneficial for protection spells. The planetary correspondence is the sun, & the Elemental association is Fire.

* CYPRESS: The Cypress Tree, also known as Italian Cypress, is a symbol for Immortality and Eternity, and it has the startling folk Name of "The Tree of Death". This may be because of its link to Hecate and Darker Magick, or it may simply be due to the fact that it is a true often found in European Graveyards and was once a popular wood with the Egyptians for building coffins. This tree's foliage is to be used when working with the goddess Hecate. In the language of flowers, the Cypress carries the definition of "mourning". It's classified as a feminie plant. Its associations are Saturn and the element of Earth.

* HYDRANGEA: An old folk name for the blossoming shrub is "Seven Bark". The Hydrangea is an herb. This shade-loving, blooming shrub is often overlooked when it comes to protection magick, but is is readily available and a wonderful addition to magickal gardens. The dried bark and the flowers themselves may beutilized in Hex-Breaking spells, to ward off Negativity, and for Psychic Protection. Interestingly, in the language of flowers, the Hydrangea blossom symbolizes "moodiness". Consider the color of the traditional "NIKKO BLUE" Hydrangea. Throughout the growing seaon, the flower heads range in color form Blue to Purple, then fade to Green with a touch of Burgandy in the Autumnafter the first tips the flowers. There is a wea;th of different cikir magicks that can also be applied to your protection work, and all on one shrub. I would assign the moon for planetary correspondence, sunce the shrub thrives in cool shade. The Elemental is definitely water.

* LAVENDER: It is a popular witch's palnt. The scent of Lavender has a healing, calming influrnce that soothes the spirit. Lavender is a shielding and healing plant and a protection herb. It also has the qualities of Banishing Negativity and keeping negative thoughtforms at bay. Lavender is an herb of Transformation, so its a perfect addition t spells and charms for protection magick and psychic selfdefense. In the language of flowers, it was believed to soothe a trembled heart, and this herb symbolizes devotion, lack , and happiness. Lavender's magicka;l associations are protection and purification, and its planetary correspondence is Mercury. Its element is AIr.

* MORNING GLORY: These annual climbing vines cab grow over 15 feet in height in just one season. The Deep Blue blooms open in september and the vines, foliage, and flowers may be worked into protection spells and Bindings. According to /florigraphy, the Mourning Glory conveys the message of being sustained by your affections. "There are several varieties of Mourning Glories available to witches today. One favorite is a variety called "Grandpa Otts". The one is dark Purple with deeper star-shaped markings on the flowers. It is very dramatic and witchly, plus Dark Purple is a great color for protection spells. Finallym the magickal associstiond of this vine are the planet Saturn and the Element of water.

* PERIWINKLE: This plant has the enchanting titles of Sorcerer's Violet and the flower of death, due to its habit of growing on graves in cemeteries. Periwinkle bloom heavily in the Spring and again lightly in the Autumn. It has a 5-Petaled Purple flowers with a striking white star in the center. the voices can be successfully worked into Binding Rituals. This perennial groundcover is associated with Venus and the Element of water.

* PINE: Pinre needles burned as an incense can cleanse a room of any evil or Negative intent. The scent of fresh Pine is clean and bracing. Pine oils are often main ingredients of HexBreaking and Curse-Removal oil blends. Pine needles can also be utilized on those occasions when you feel the need to send the attacking spell back to its sender. Finally, the Pine Tree is associated with Nars and the Element of AIR.

*ROSE: The Rose is a classic magickal flower with all sorts of magickal applications. besides Love spells. Rose petals included in a ritual or scattered around a ritual circle make the magickalactually manifest much faster. In other words, speeds things up. Not only the petals can be used in magick. It is also possible to use the rose Thorns to prick someone's conscience. Instead of using pins in a candle or poppet, the rose thorns are used instead to make someone realize the consequences of bad behavior. Also, you can apply color magick to the individual Rose to fine-tune the magick even more. these beautiful flowers are classically associated with Venus and water.

* ROWAN: The Rowan is also known as "Mountain Ash". All parts of the Rowan are utilized in magick: the leaves, blooms, twigs, and berries.. Rowan wood is used to bind magick and magickal items of any sort. Its suggested in the removal and binding of a trouble-making Ouija Board. The Rowan has the planetary association of them Sun and The Elemental correspondence of Fire.

*RUE: Folk names include herb of Grace, Mother of the Herbs, Ruta, Witch Bane, and Garden Rue. In magick, Rue is often used for Hex-Binding and for warding off the Evil Eye. Rue is also a classic herb for protection magick and to increase your psychic powers. You can easily tuck a few Rue leaves or flowers into a protective sachet. The scent of the plant is so strong, so I wouldnt wear as a charm bag. Place it inside of a purse, briefcase, or drawer instead. Rue is a popular herb with Italian traditional witches, the Strega. The plant is sacred to Diana and Aradia This herb is ruled by the Sun. Its elemental correspondence is Fire. "WARNING": Rue is a Toxic plant. Brushing against the foliage may cause contact dermatitis. Do not take internally. It is also an abortifacient.

* SAGE: This multi-purpose herb grants wisdom, healing, and protection. The name "SAGE" comes from the Latin "SALVARE", which means "to heal". Bundles of dried Sage are traditional for smudging and cleansing a place or person of negativity. Essential Sage oil is popular for adding to spell candles and incorporating into psychic healing & protection spells. The planeetary correspondence is Jupiter and the Elemental is AIR.

* YARROW: Yarrow s often worked into healing spells. Holding or wearing a small posy of the blossoms of this perennial herb will protect its wearer, and also enforces confidence and protection. Yarrow blossoms and foliage are used to cleanse any place or person form negative influences. This is a classic witch's plant, all-purpose herb. Its planetary correspondence is Venus, and the Elemental association is water.

[saionofvalflame]

❀ light | dark - dark mage mastery

“As followers of Bragi, it is your mission to spread his light wherever you may go.”

...

Ever since he arrived at the little enclave, Saias has studied and meditated on what it means to live by Bragi's teachings. From his youth he was taught that doing good meant putting others before oneself, fulfilling their needs before one’s own. What Bragi had preached was light, a light meant to be spread to illuminate the darkest corners of the earth. And Fjalar the Crusader, first wielder of Valflame, brought justice in the form of fiery light to those who would perpetuate evil deeds.

Good, in Saias’s mind, has almost always been equated to light, and evil to darkness.

But the young priest-in-training is far too smart to fool himself into thinking that such is the only way to see the world. A tactician must look at every angle, not just those that paint situations in black and white, and it is often the grey areas that can make the difference between ruination and salvation. Inexperienced and sheltered though he may be, Saias has never been able to ignore the fact that war is horrendous and awful and oftentimes necessary to pave the way for what is good. Sometimes it is those who work in the shadows that enable peace to be achieved or restored. Light, dark, good, evil... these dichotomies seem to be written into his bones. He has been blessed with the light of Fjalar but must be hidden away in the dark; in his hands he holds the power to perform acts of both good and evil, and he has seen and heard how light can be twisted into blinding and harming and how dark can be softened to comfort and shelter.

Is light always good? Is dark always evil?

He settles on his reasoning for learning about dark magic being a desire to understand that other force that lies within his body: that of the dark god Loptous. His very blood holds a conflict, or should hold a conflict, yet somehow his being hasn’t been rent to shreds even though it contains two opposing powers. Father is another example of this, and Saias has to wonder why. Why do those who carry both Fjalar’s and Loptous’ Holy Bloods still exist despite the fact that said Bloods should clash? Loptous was unequivocally evil... so why? Why?

And is there any good that can be done with a legacy so foul?

The teen spends days and weeks poring over tomes and journals and papers in his quest to understand. Dark magic isn’t forbidden in Fódlan, nor is it so in many other countries and continents. For many, dark magic is simply another way of life, and he learns of kingdoms like Nohr and Plegia, places where this is the case. He researches an ancestor of his, one Saint Maera, who despite the Loptous blood he carried worked his hardest to fight for the people and sacrificed himself to protect them. He finds that because of Maera’s actions and beliefs, Bragi himself was spared from being offered up to Loptous and went on to memorialize the saint and his followers through the Bragi Tower. The revelation shocks him to his core: if a bearer of Loptyrian blood can save the man who is revered by many in Jugdral as a god, what is stopping him from doing the same? But dark magic requires sacrifice, or at least, he believed it required unpleasant requisites, and with the most vile and horrible rituals and spells that is indeed the case. However, he also learns about hexes, jinxes, and curses that are benign and not intended to cause severe or lasting damage. In addition, he finds that regarding Nosferatu, which siphons health from an enemy and restores it to the wielder, nobody can seem to decide on whether the spell qualifies as a dark or light magic spell. Elibe, Magvel, Nohr, and Ylisse all consider it a dark spell, whereas Jugdral, Tellius, and Fódlan classify it as a light spell, with the last country going so far as to name it a Faith spell instead of a Reason one. You would think, he muses, that sapping your enemy’s strength requires knowledge of how the mortal body works in order to take it for yourself, and yet here they say it is belief that empowers this magic. But what are you supposed to believe in, in order to take life from someone else?

War is a horrible and brutal thing... and yet it can be used to pave the way for good change. Perhaps taking from someone else to survive another day can be seen as acceptable in certain cases. Saias knows that war forces people to commit acts they aren’t proud of to uphold the ideals they treasure. To do the dirty work so that others don’t have to stain their own conscience... is that what it means to be a dark mage? And if pursuing such a path means that one gets to return to one’s family alive and well at the end of it all? The Blue Lion can’t bear to lose any of his family members or friends here, and it’s most likely safe to say that they feel the same way about him. (He’s not really sure where Julius stands, but if he thinks about it, maybe the other redhead’s cold admittance of needing his aid was a subtle plea for his big brother to stay by his side.) It seems so selfish, to want them to come home to him when it means that others might have to die for that to happen; then again, isn’t that what everyone whose family members have gone off to war wants?

If I don’t try to survive for my family, I will die and they will grieve me. That’s what happened to Chrom: he won’t speak about it, but I recognize his sense of loss, the same kind I’ve felt since Mother’s death. I can’t bear to inflict my demise upon my family, not when I’ve seen how badly it can hurt. To use darkness is to do whatever it takes, to make the sacrifice so that you and everyone else can live later on down the line.

He learns of many skills and abilities that those from his home would label dark and evil, their names meant to strike fear into the enemy’s heart. He becomes adept at manipulating his magic with ease when in melee combat, a technique called Heartseeker, and practices tainting his opponent so as to inflict further injury, named Poison Strike for its similarity to the use of toxin. It feels strange to take life in such an underhanded manner, and at times his disgust at himself floods his mind like a tidal wave. He has to constantly remind himself that he has taken on this burden to protect the ones he loves—and besides, he accepted the possibility of staining his hands when he signed up for sword training, didn’t he? He can’t help but think back to that infernal Lone Moon and the Mark of Control, a manifestation of his need to stay on top of every situation. The corresponding lock he received at the end of the month sits on top of his desk, a reminder of everything he underwent during that calamitous mission. He studies it alongside his dark magic curriculum.

In the end, he takes the test and passes, a certified Dark Mage. He is allowed to put his new skills to use on the battlefield. People look at him with respect that he thinks is tinged a bit with fear.

Is it worth it?

He looks at his family, all healthy and safe and (relatively) happy, and feels no shame in answering yes.

Class mastered: Dark Mage!

[downeystarkjr]

Lost Stars - Cursed Killian AU - Chapter 7

Summary: Killian and Emma finally have their happy ending and are looking forward to their future together. However, fate has other plans and decides Killian needs to pay the price for returning from the Underworld by being sent 5 years back in time to New York with a new life and new memories and a new love. With no memory of Emma or who he really is. Killian and Emma’s True Love is put to the test when they cross paths once more as The Saviour does all she can to bring her pirate back. If things weren’t bad enough, Emma and the other heroes have to deal with the arrival of The Flying Dutchman to the Storybrooke docks, the captain of which is on the hunt for the infamous Captain Hook…

Chapter summary: Killian’s cursed life begins..

Chapter dedication: Chapter 7 is dedicated to @athenascarlet​ for her love of Cursed Killian fics!

Rating: M

Content/Triggers: Cursed Killian, fluff, angst, whump, nightmares

Previous chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6

Full story on AO3 here

Chapter 7

“Good morning sleepyhead, someone was sure tired,” a fair skinned brunette with warm, loving brown eyes smiled, greeting her boyfriend with kisses to his cheeks and jawline as he awoke. “You almost overslept,” she chuckled and wrapped an arm around his waist.

“Hmm…good morning love,” Killian grinned and stole a kiss from the woman lying in the bed they shared together and embraced her in his arms. “Well I’m glad I had you around to make sure I didn’t get late for work Nicola,” he added.  “You’re quite the wonderful sight to wake up to darling,” the blue eyed man said affectionately before kissing Nicola again. “I love you.”

“I love you too Killian,” Nicola whispered against Killian’s lips and didn’t hesitate to kiss back. She was going to have to get ready and head to the law firm she worked at, and knew Killian would be needed at the school where he had the role of English teacher, having no memory of Storybrooke. Or of his True Love he married before disappearing from town. Killian was indeed a far cry from the pirate Emma fell in love with. Instead of memories of his true life as a redeemed pirate, Killian had memories of a past where he and his brother had been adopted after the death of his parents only for him to lose Liam years later when the older Jones brother joined the military while Killian was studying as an English and linguistics student at university.

The curse that pulled Killian away from his beloved wife took the pirate back five years in time and that morning was around five months  before his marriage to Emma. While he was enjoying his life in New York with the woman he believed he truly loved, he had yet to propose to Emma back in his real life. New York was where he met his current girlfriend, Nicola, who Killian was in love with. They had been together since a few months after his arrival to New York and shared an apartment with each other for the last three years. They truly were a devoted and loving couple.

“Good luck on your closing statements this afternoon in court, love,” Killian whispered as he gently placed ticklish kisses to his girlfriend’s neck to which Nicola responded with a laugh, playfully trying to push him away. “I’m sure you’ll be bloody brilliant always, my wonderful lawyer.”

“Thank you Killy, and I hope you’re right, to be honest I can’t wait until this case is finally over,” Nicola admitted with a small chuckle  and softly caressed Killian’s stubble as she gazed into his ocean blue eyes. She loved addressing him with the nickname she came up with when they first started dating. “And don’t worry, I’m going to make sure to be at your gig tonight,” she said in support of her boyfriend. Other than being a teacher, Killian had a hobby of being a musician. He loved his job but music was his main passion. “I’ll be the one cheering for you the loudest in the audience,” Nicola grinned and continued to give the man she loved good morning kisses.

“Aye? I look forward to seeking you out in the audience during my performance,” Killian smiled against Nicola’s lips and kept her in a loving embrace while kissing back. “People are probably going to be shocked to see a one handed guitar player singing tonight,” he shrugged, nuzzling his nose lovingly against hers. In this life, Killian recalled that he lost his left hand after a sailing incident. He hadn’t been out at sea since, not having the courage to. “Oh honey, no one’s going to treat you differently because you have one hand,” Nicola was quick to assure and reached for Killian’s prosthetic hand. “If anything, it’ll make people realise just how talented you are… I never get tired of hearing you sing,” she smiled while helping her love put on the appendage just like she always did every morning that they were living together.

Killian couldn’t hide the smirk on his face and raised an eyebrow at Nicola’s words. “Is that so? Well just wait to hear what song I have lined up to sing tonight,” he winked. It was mean to be a surprise but Killian had planned to perform a song he had written for his girlfriend, one she was yet to hear.

“If it’s anything like the song you wrote for me on our first date or any of your songs, I know it’ll be perfect,” Nicola smiled widely and hugged Killian from behind after she fixed the hand in place on his stump, resting her head on his should for a few moment. “Now, do you think you have time for me to make you some breakfast before you head down to the school? How does your favourite, scrambled eggs on toast with a mug of hot cocoa and cinnamon sound?”

“That sounds too tempting to resist, I love you,” Killian gave in, leaning back against his girlfriend as she hugged him. He was grateful to have Nicola in his life. The spell that brought Killian back in time and to Nicola had worked on the two of them, making them believe that Nicola had been there for Killian since the loss of his brother and his left hand. There were a few subtle signs remaining  of the man Killian was supposed to be. “Nobody makes my favourite quite like you do.”

“Why thank you Mr Jones,” Nicola giggled and shared a kiss with Killian again before getting up to prepare breakfast for the two of them, letting Killian get ready for the day ahead.

It was during the moments that Killian was alone that he experienced the unshakeable feeling that something was missing in his life. However, he was mistaken in his judgement regarding what it was. Killian still had the wedding ring Emma placed on his finger during their wedding ceremony but believed the ring to have belonged to his father. Killian thought the reason he felt so alone was because he had lost his beloved brother and was made to grow up without either of his parents.

Killian honestly didn’t know where he would be if he didn’t have Nicola. He was grateful for how her parents had been more than willing to welcome him into their family. They saw how perfect he and Nicola were together.

“Bloody hell Jones… you have a woman you’re in love with, who loves you in return… you shouldn’t be feeling this way anymore…” Killian sighed after washing his face with cold water, looking at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He didn’t doubt that Nicola was the one for him, nor did he have the inkling that he shared True Love with someone else. “She’s everything I’ve ever wanted,” he smiled to himself. The couple had discussed the possibility of expanding their household with a child of their own. Killian knew he wanted a future with Nicola, she was the best thing that could have happened to him for quite some time. He felt ready to take the next step with her and was also strongly considering marrying her. After all, they had been together for quite some time and Killian had already found the perfect ring. If only he knew that he had been bound in matrimony to someone else.

“Aye love, I’m just about to read it, let me sit down first” Killian chuckled as he carried his cup of  coffee in his prosthetic hand and his phone in his right with the newspaper Nicola insisted he buy during his break from the nearby newsstand. It was later in the day and Killian has just returned from his lunch break with some time remaining before his next class was due to beginning. He always was punctual. “Aren’t you supposed to be working right now?” he asked with a playful tone while walking down the school hall to the room he was going to be teaching in next.

“Don’t worry, the jury are discussing the verdict, so I’ve been reading the paper I collected on my way to work this morning,” Nicola explained with a jokingly roll of her eyes. Knowing when her boyfriend was teasing her. But she couldn’t help how eager she was. “So, what do you think? It’s perfect right?”

“Hang on darling,” Killian said to Nicola when he finally sat down, placing his coffee on the desk before turning to the classified section of the newspaper. There he saw the advertisement for the house in Maine that had caught Nicola’s attention. The couple had been pondering on the thought of moving from New York so that Nicola could be closer to her ailing father in Maine. But the house needed to be just right, like the one she had found. “Complete with a bedroom balcony giving the perfect view of the ocean?” Killian raised an eyebrow, reading the advertisement. “And for that price?”

“Exactly, it’s cheaper than any other house we looked at and it’s got more or less everything we wanted,” Nicola grinned, hoping that Killian would agree with her urge to at least go and view the property in person. “Do you think it’s worth checking the place out? Killy, even the name of the town sounds wonderful. Storybrooke .”

Killian stayed quiet for a moment, this would be a big step for the two of them. They would have to find new jobs, however, he was well aware of the health of Nicola’s father. “I don’t see what harm it could do and the school holidays are coming up soon. Leave it with me, I’ll call the number and see what I can do,” he nodded, rather impressed by the house too. “I’ll also make sure that the price isn’t a typo, because it’s great place way under budget.” “Oh honey, I knew you’d agree,” Nicola smiled wider, growing excited at the opportunity to take a look at the house. The perfect place for the two of them to spend their future together and perhaps have a family. There were enough rooms for a couple of additions. Nicola had had boyfriends in the past, but none of them held a candle to Killian. He was charming, loving, talented and had the ability to make her feel that she was the most important person in his world. She loved Killian with all her heart.  

“Listen, we’re getting called back into court,” Nicola said to her boyfriend after being interrupted and told the jury had reached a decision. “Let me know what they say when we get home tonight yeah? Over Chinese? And then maybe a movie?”

“A movie night and Chinese takeaway with my girl? Nicola, you have a deal darling,” Killian couldn’t resist using a flirtatious tone to his girlfriend. The loved up couple exchanged farewells before Killian hung up the phone as the class of students he was teaching that afternoon walked into the room.

“Hey Mr Jones,” Lawrence, one of the students greeted to the teacher he looked up to. Killian inspired him and several other students in the school to explore their musical talents since the English teacher took up the role of head of the school’s Music Club . The previous music teacher had retired a few weeks after Killian joined the school and when she did, Killian had been more than eager to be her successor. “Good luck for your show tonight, my mom and dad are going. I tried to get them to take me, but it’s a school night and they want me completing my homework.”

“Thanks Lawrence,” Killian replied as he put the newspaper away in his bag, preparing for the lesson. “And mate, your parents are right, you do have your English assignment due on Monday,” he reminded with a smirk and turned to address the rest of his class. “Alright everyone settle down everyone, we have a lot planned for today’s lesson beginning with your mid-term results. I have to say you all did me and yourselves proud so well done,” Killian revealed, giving out the papers he had marked. Seeing how happy his students were to see their results stood as a reminder why Killian began teaching in the first place. He was actually making a difference in their lives, especially the students whose work improved considerably with Killian’s help.

That was the main reason Killian had reservations about moving to Maine. He loved teaching, especially at that school he had worked at for nearly four years. Killian knew that if he and Nicola did decide to relocate together, his colleagues and students weren’t exactly going to be pleased to know he was leaving. Being the caring teacher that he was, Killian didn’t want his students to think he was letting them down.

“Now, I hope you all did the reading I set for you because we’re going to start this lesson off with a class discussion,” Killian began, sitting on the edge of his desk with a book in his hands. “However, who would like to start the recap on the events of the four chapters? To help your colleagues who haven’t read them?” he offered, gesturing with his hands to welcome volunteers as he looked around the classroom. “Hmm? Alright Sharon go ahead.” “Well , when Jane and Mr Rochester reach the altar and are about to be married, one of the strangers watching the proceedings objects to the wedding, stating that the wedding can’t go ahead because Mr Rochester is already married,” Sharon began, she was a ginger girl who clearly loved the book they were studying. The rather intelligent student stood up at her table as she continued the explanation Killian asked from her. “His wife of fifteen years, Bertha is insane and Mr Rochester keeps her locked away and she’s basically the ghoulish sounds Jane hears earlier in the story. Jane is the only one who doesn’t know about the woman and Mr Rochester takes Jane and the wedding guests to meet Bertha to the room where she’s hidden to see why he kept her secret. That she’s violent as well as crazy.”

“Excellent, that’s a perfect account of the wedding, well done,” Killian praised with a smile, unaware of the slight similarities between his life and the book. He too was married while being in love with another woman. However, unlike Mr Rochester, Killian had no idea of his real life or that Emma even existed. “Like anyone would be, Jane is heartbroken and locks herself away in her own room before deciding to leave Thornfield despite Mr Rochester’s apologies and offer of a new proposal in France. Using the book as evidence why do you think that is? Yes, Jonathan?”

“Basically, Jane believes that she’ll be nothing more than Rochester’s mistress while Bertha is alive.” The boy replied as Sharon sat back down. This was how the English lessons dedicated to the reading material tended to begin. With a discussion on the chapter Killian gave them to read as homework.  “We learn that Rochester was pretty much made to marry Bertha by his father over in Jamaica but wasn’t told of the fact her family had a hereditary mental condition.  He only finds out when shows signs of madness during their marriage.”

“Great, that’s just what I was expecting to hear. I think it’s fair to say that the Rochester is as messed up as they get,” Killian joked, getting a few laughs of agreement from his students. They really did enjoy their lessons with Killian, he made English fun compared to the English teachers before him. “Yes Ashley?” he asked seeing another student raising her hand.

“Mr Jones sir, I think we need to clarify that it was the dream Jane had of her mother convincing her to leave Thornton that eventually made Jane decide it was right for her to go,” Ashley pointed out, glad to see her teacher was impressed by her observation.

“I was hoping someone would point that out, because it brings me to our subject of discussion for today,” Killian clapped his hands together as he stood up from the desk. He then went over to the whiteboard, writing down a few points for his class to keep in mind while he spoke. “Bronte clearly states that Jane was conflicted in her decision to leave. Do you think she was too brash and should have stayed given what she learnt about the man she loved? Leaving Thornton would be risky for her and even Jane experienced doubts about finding another man to love her like Mr Rochester,” he explained, writing down the relevant quote to support what he was saying. “Should she have tried to understand Mr Rochester’s perspective? Was he justified in keeping the secret of Bertha from Jane? Or did he deserve have Jane run out of him? I’ll leave that for you to discuss. Let’s hear your ideas.”

Tagging a few users who might like the story. I’d love to know what you think! @yayimallamaagain @phiralovesloki @lenfaz @flipperbrain@cocohook38@hollyethecurious@winterbaby89@xhookswenchx@teamhook@resident-of-storybrooke@fairytalesandtimetravel@aye-captn@captainswanbookclub@captainswanbigbang@goldengirlschildhood@themilahskillybear@the-corsair-and-her-quill @clockadile@wellhellotragic @killian-whump@blittrellzsouthernangel@yayimallamaagain@sherlockianwhovian@snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89

[swanqueeneverafter]

35. A Curious Thing, Pt.4

Storybrooke. Present Day. A Barn. (Under Zelena’s direct supervision, Mr. Gold digs.) Zelena: “There, dig.” Mr. Gold: “Huh?” Zelena: (Watches Mr. Gold closely:) “You think I’ll fail.” Mr. Gold: “I think destiny is destiny.” Zelena: (Chuckles:) “You’re wrong. I can change it. (Places the brain in a bowl:) Once I fix the past, my mother will keep me, Regina will never have been born, and I’ll get everything she ever had. (Places the enchanted heart in a bowl standing opposite to the brain:) With the right ingredients I can do anything.” Mr. Gold: “Whether it works or not, is irrelevant, dearie. Because no matter what you change of your past, one thing shall remain the same: (Zelena places the sword hilt in another bowl:) Who you are. And that is a fate, you can never escape.” Zelena: “We shall see.” (Zelena takes a closer look at the compass. We see Zelena and Mr. Gold standing in the west, the enchanted heart points south. The brain points north.) Storybrooke General Hospital. (Mary Margaret is in labor. David comforts her.) David: “It’s gonna be okay.” Mary Margaret: “Is it?” David: “Our baby’s gonna be fine. It’s never going to leave your arms. I don’t care who’s out there.” Mary Margaret: “That’s what we thought last time.” David: “Yeah, but this time we have someone else on our side.” (Outside, Emma and Regina encircle the room with a protection spell.) Emma: “You really think this protection spell will be enough to hold her off?” Regina: “It depends if your brand of magic is stronger than hers. If it is, no one wielding dark magic will be able to get in here.” Emma: “That doesn’t sound like a vote of confidence.” Regina: “It isn’t, but we’re out of options.” (Regina exits. Hook approaches Emma.) Hook: “Swan? (Emma turns around:) I heard the little royal was on his way.” Emma: “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be here right now.” Hook: “I wanna help.” Emma: “If you really wanted to help, you would have told me when Zelena cursed your lips.” Hook: “I had no choice. She threatened you and your family. I was trying to help.” Emma: “Telling me what was going on would have been help.” Hook: “And a death sentence for your boy.” Emma: “Henry’s safety is my concern, not yours, which is why I’m taking this fight to Zelena. This ends today.”

(Watching as Emma walks past their room, David approaches his daughter.) David: “Emma, wait. You don’t have to do this alone.” Emma: “Yeah, I do. You need to stay with Mary Margaret.” David: “Yeah, I know, but you need help. Take Hook.” Emma: “Are you insane?” David: “He’s going with you. (To Hook:) You’re going with her.” Hook: “Mm, I thought you didn’t trust me, mate.” David: “Zelena backed you into a corner. You did the best you could.” Hook: (To Emma:) “See? Even your father gets it.” Emma: “Yeah, because he knows about keeping secrets from loved ones.” David: “Hey.” Emma: “I’m sorry. I’m doing this alone.” David: “No, you’re not. This isn’t about you. It’s about all of us.” Emma: “What is he gonna do? I have magic. He’s got one hand.” Hook: “You know, I’m good in a fight.” David: “At the very least, he can draw fire.” Hook: “What, now I’m cannon fodder?” Emma: “Fine. He can come.” Hook: “Fair enough. Shall we?” (Starts to walk away.) Emma: (Stops him:) “Hang on, give me a sec. (Approaches Henry:) Hey kid.” Henry: “Hey mom. Is the baby here?” Emma: “Not yet, but it will be soon. I’m sorry, but I have to go. I have to take care of this witch, but it’s gonna be alright and I’ll be back before you know it.” Henry: “I know. I’m not worried.” Emma: “Yeah?” Henry: “Defeating bad guys is what you do.” (Emma hugs Henry.) Regina: (To Emma:) “Go. I’ll keep him safe.” Emma: “Thank you.” Hook: “You ready, Swan?” Emma: “Yeah. Let’s end this.” (Regina pulls Henry close to her as she watches Emma depart with Hook, an unreadable expression on her face.) Oz. Past. The Heart of Oz. (Zelena and Glinda enter the room. Two other witches are already present.) Zelena: “What is this place?” Glinda: “The Heart of Oz. (Introducing both witches to Zelena:) These are my sister witches. From the north and the east. Each represents a special part of magic. (Introducing herself:) Love. (Points north:) Wisdom. (Points east:) Courage. Together our abilities are far more powerful than they could ever be on their own. We can do things that no one else can.” Zelena: “Like travel through time?” Glinda: “That’s not why we brought you here.” (Walks around the table.) Zelena: “But you said you wanted to help me. If you can’t change my past…” Glinda: (Interrupting:) “I brought you here to change your future. (Stops in the west:) This seat has been empty for some time. (Gives Zelena a smile:) We’d like you to fill it.” Zelena: “What does the west represent?” Glinda: “The most elusive of elements: Innocence.” Zelena: “Well, then, I’m the last person you should consider. I mean, look at me: I’m wicked.” Glinda: “But you don’t have to be. Innocence reclaimed can be just as powerful as innocence born. You simply have to choose to be good.” Zelena: “That’s easy for you to say. Good is part of your name.” Witch of the North: “Glinda, aren’t you going to tell her?” Zelena: “Tell me what?” Glinda: “I didn’t want to say anything unless I had to. I wanted to let you shape your own destiny.” Zelena: “What could you possibly know about my destiny?” Witch of the North: “Glinda is the keeper of the Book of Records.” Witch of the East: “It chronicles the past, present and future of Oz.” Glinda: “The book foretells of a powerful sorceress, who will join our sisterhood as a protector of Oz.” Zelena: “And you think that that’s me?” Glinda: "The book says that the Sorceress from the West will come to this land by cyclone.” Zelena: “I was brought here by a cyclone.” Glinda: “That’s right. We’ve been looking for you for a long time, Zelena. You’ve always been meant for more. I know you don’t think so, but you can do this. You just have to let go of your past.”

Present Day. Storybrooke General Hospital. (Archie Hopper watches Henry reading the newspaper.) Archie Hopper: “Are you keeping up on current events?” Henry: “No, I’m looking at the classifieds.” Archie Hopper: “Oh? A little young for a job, aren’t you?” Henry: “I’m actually looking at apartments. Mary Margaret’s place will be crowded after the baby and I’ll be back and forth from Regina’s, but Emma, she can’t sleep in her car.” Archie Hopper: “No, not comfortably. (Archie Hopper nudges Henry:) It’s really good to see you, Henry. I missed you.” Henry: “Me, too. (Studying the classifieds:) Maybe a place by the water. With a view.” Archie Hopper: “You know, have you spoken to Emma about this? About staying in Storybrooke?” Henry: “What’s to talk about? We’re home. Besides, this is just until my mom asks Emma to move into the Mayor’s mansion with us.” Archie Hopper: (Chuckles:) “So you’ve thought this through?” Henry: “Trust me, it’ll happen.” Near Zelena's Farmhouse. (Emma and Hook walk together.) Emma: “I never should have brought Henry back to Storybrooke.” Hook: “You did what you thought was right.” Emma: “I did what you manipulated me into.” Hook: “Your parents needed you, Swan. The town needed you.” Emma: “Henry also needed me. We were happy in New York. Once I’m done melting this witch, I’d like us to be happy again.” Hook: “You know as content as you were in that city, it wasn’t real.” Emma: “It was real for me. For him. Everything that happened happened.” Hook: “Minus all the things you’d forgotten. Part of you is not the real you. And like it or not, a big part of you and Henry belongs in this town.” Emma: “Yeah, the part of us that’s always in danger. We’re leaving.” Hook: “What does the boy think?” Emma: “He’s a kid. He wants chocolate milk in his cereal. I’m his mother. I know what’s best for him.” Hook: “What’s best for him? Or for you?” Emma: “Excuse me?” Hook: “You’ve taken care of the boy quite well here. You can talk about danger all you like, but it isn’t that. So, tell me, what is it? (Faces Emma:) Why are you so scared of staying? (Emma remains silent:) I think it’s because you can see a future here. A happy one.” Emma: “Let me clue you in on something: Once this is all over, Henry and are are leaving, with Regina.” Hook: “The Evil Queen leave the town she created? I don’t think so.” Emma: “Don’t call her that. Regina would do anything to keep Henry safe. That’s why she sent us away in the first place. Something you’d understand if you ever cared about anyone but yourself.” (Zelena approaches them. Mr. Gold follows her.) Zelena: “Ouch. Lover’s quarrel? Instead of each other, maybe you should be focused on me. Although, without magic, that could prove to be a challenge.” Emma: “The next time you try to take my power, why don’t you try enchanting the lips of someone, I’ll actually kiss?” Zelena: “See, Emma, you’ve got a decision to make. You can keep your magic and attempt to defeat me or... (Turning to Mr. Gold:) Rumple?” (Mr. Gold magically throws Hook head first in a water trough standing nearby.) Emma: (Shocked:) “Hook!” Zelena: “Choose wisely. (Emma tries to free Hook:) Try all you like. You can’t free him. Oh and, if you do choose to simply let him die, you can kiss goodbye to your light magic anyway. So for me it’s win win.” (Zelena disappears in a cloud of green smoke. Finally, Emma is able to pull an unconscious Hook out of the well.) Emma: “Hook! Hook! (Shaking him:) Wake up! Killian! (Shakes him again:) Killian! Oh, God! Son of a bitch! (Emma leans closer and revives Hook. As Emma touches his lips, her magic leaves her:) Hook?”

(Coughing, Hook vomits water.) Hook: (Gasping:) “Swan? (Touching his lips:) What did you do? What did you do?” Enchanted Forest. Past. (Holding an enchanted heart in one hand, Rumplestiltskin teaches Regina another aspect of magic.) Oz. Past. The Emerald City. (Once again, Zelena watches Regina and Rumplestiltskin.) Zelena: “Sorry sis, but I’m over you.” (The scene vanishes.) Glinda: (Using magic she appears behind Zelena:) “That was lovely, Zelena. I’m impressed. I knew you would make the right choice.” (Hands Zelena a magic pendant.) Zelena: “What’s that?” Glinda: “A very special pendant. Each of the witches in the sisterhood wears one. (Fastens the pendant around Zelena’s neck:) Guard it with your life, because in many ways it now is your life. You were born with great power, Zelena. And now, this pendant will harness, protect and grow that power. All of it.“ Zelena: “Will it make me stronger?” Glinda: “Than you can possibly imagine. However, the price is, without it, you’re powerless. But so long as you do continue to wear it, you’ll be able to accomplish untold miracles.” Zelena: “Does this mean…” Glinda: “You’re one of us? Yes. Our sister. (Glinda hands Zelena a mirror:) Take a look.” (Smiling, Zelena watches her green skin color disappearing.) Zelena: (Laughs:) “Thank you.” Glinda: “Don’t thank me. Thank yourself. You did it all. You let go of your envy. You took control of your destiny.” Present Day. Storybrooke General Hospital. (Leroy and Mr. Clark stand watch. Zelena and Mr. Gold are about to enter.) Leroy: “Incoming!”

Delivery Room. (Mary Margaret is about to give birth. The light flickers.) David: “What the hell was that?” Dr. Whale: “Doesn’t matter. This baby is coming.” (Mary Margaret screams in pain.) Storybrooke General Hospital. (Running, Leroy and Mr. Clark enter the lobby. Armed with bows, three Merry Men take aim.) Robin Hood: (Kneeling down:) “Steady, men. Steady. (Takes aim. Magically, the doors fling open and Zelena and Mr. Gold enter the lobby:) Aim true. For Little John.” (Waving a hand, Zelena magically knocks all of them out. Belle approaches Zelena and Mr. Gold.) Zelena: (To Belle:) “Didn’t you learn your lesson the last time? (Shows Belle the Dark One's Dagger:) This is more powerful than your true love.” Belle: “I refuse to believe that.” Mr. Gold: “Belle, go.” Zelena: “Listen to him, dear.” Belle: “No. (Angry:) You’ve put him through enough pain.” Zelena: “I’m not nearly done. (Zelena waves her hand causing Belle to fall asleep. Mr. Gold catches Belle. To Mr. Gold:) Your taste in women really has gone downhill. Leave her, dearie. Chop-chop!” Elsewhere. (Regina notices Zelena and Mr. Gold approaching herself, Henry and Archie.) Regina: “Henry, go with Dr. Hopper. Find a closet and lock yourselves inside. You don’t want to see this. It won’t be pretty.” Archie: “Come on, Henry.” (Henry and Archie exit.) Zelena: “No, it won’t.” Regina: “Take another step and I’ll roast you.” Zelena: “Please.” (Regina prepares to cast a spell, but using magic Zelena quickly throws her sister against the wall. Knocked unconscious, Regina lies on the ground.)

Oz. Past. The West. Zelena: “All of this? For me?” Glinda: “Yes, sister. The West. It’s future and potential is as limitless as your own. (In the distance thunder can be heard:) What is that? It sounds like thunder.” Zelena: “It’s not thunder. It’s a cyclone.” (In the distance a cyclone is visible.) Glinda: “There’s something inside it.” (The storm has passed.) Glinda: “Oh…” (Ahead of them somebody coughs.) Zelena: “Over there.” Girl: (Coughs:) “Help! I’m down here.” Glinda: “Someone’s trapped. (Glinda frees the girl:) Are you alright?” Girl: (Panting:) “I think so. I tried to run to the storm cellar, but I wasn’t fast enough.” Zelena: “What world are you from?” Girl: (Confused:) “W… World? You mean this isn’t Kansas?” Glinda: (Gives the girl a smile:) “I’m afraid not. Welcome to Oz. What’s your name?” Girl: “Dorothy. Dorothy Gale.” Glinda: “Few are strong enough to survive such a powerful storm. You must be a very special girl, Dorothy. Come, (Glinda takes the girl’s hand:) we’ll take you to our home. Our sisters will be very excited to meet you, won’t they, Zelena?” Zelena: “Yes, I’m sure they will.” Present Day. Storybrooke General Hospital. (Giving birth to their child, Mary Margaret suffers great pain. Outside, noise can be heard.) Mary Margaret: “David.” David: “I’ll be here. Don’t worry. I’ll protect you. Just focus on the baby.” Dr. Whale: “Just one more push, Mary Margaret. One more push. (Mary Margaret screams:) That’s it. One more.” (Outside, Zelena steps over Regina lying unconscious on the ground.) David: (Laughing to Mary Margaret:) “It’s a boy. It’s a boy.” (Wraps the infant boy in a blanket. Magically, the doors fling open and Zelena enters the room. Using magic she knocks Dr. Whale aside.) Zelena: “What a charming family. It’s a shame I have to break it up.” (David unsheathes his sword, but Zelena freezes him mid motion. With her powers, Zelena transfers the baby into her arms.) Mary Margaret: (Shocked:) “No!” (Zelena freezes Mary Margaret as well.) Zelena: “So pure. So innocent. And now, you’re mine.” (She disappears in a cloud of green smoke. With Zelena gone, David is able to move again and heads for the door.)

[our-legacy-rp-blog]

KARI has been accepted for the character LEANDER PARRISH

A thoughtful and detailed application, Kari! You went above and beyond with Leander, and I can feel how much you connect with the character - we can’t wait to see you get started.  Welcome back for another round of OL, and be sure you fill out the checklist HERE.

OOC name & pronouns: Kari (they/them)

Age: 21

Timezone: PST

Note: Kari will be dropping Lyana and taking Leander.

IC INFORMATION:

Character’s name: Leander Parish

FC: Jacob Artist

Position request: None

Birthday: August 25th

Virgos are always paying attention to the smallest details and their deep sense of humanity makes them one of the most careful signs of the zodiac. Their methodical approach to life ensures that nothing is left to chance, and although they are often tender, their heart might be closed for the outer world. This is a sign often misunderstood, not because they lack the ability to express, but because they won’t accept their feelings as valid, true, or even relevant when opposed to reason. Though they are enthusiastic learners, Virgo’s tend to be shy so they don’t always bask in the limelight as well as others. They often prefer to work in the background

Sources:

http://www.astrology-zodiac-signs.com/zodiac-signs/virgo/

https://exemplore.com/astrology/A-Beginners-Guide-To-Astrological-Signs-And-What-They-Mean-For-Your-Personality

Wand: Birch and Phoenix Feather, 12 ½ inches

Birch wood is known for its good physical healing abilities and can help in recuperation and restoration of one’s own strength. A birch wand will never refuse any who are in need of its support and its properties make it good for expelling evil spirits and spirits of the past. However it cannot destroy them.  This wand performs well in healing spells and charms, and is suited well for transfiguration - specifically in the creation of a new structure or rejuvenating an old one. It also performs well for spells dealing with light. This wand is successful in dispelling evil curses, whoever it is less suited for direct combat.  

Source: www.unfading.net/wselen.html

Patronus: Praying Mantis.

To Leander the praying mantis represents the inner strength and patience that he practises. The praying mantis hides in plain sight, watching and waiting for it’s prey to come to pass by before it strikes.  The praying mantis will not move until it is 100% sure that it is doing the correct thing. Leander takes inspiration and strength from it, knowing that patience is important until he is able to carry out his action. It reminds Leander to have patience in acquiring things they want and to remain balanced throughout the duration of the wait.

Source: http://www.sunsigns.org/praying-mantis-animal-totem-symbolism-meanings/

Boggart: Dead Werewolf.

Not only a dead werewolf, but a werewolf dead with the implication that Leander was the one to have ended its life.  With Leander’s family history and the propaganda that he was fed through his life, he does struggle to see werewolves as people, but he still thinks that killing them mercilessly is wrong.  What Leander fears most is turning into the person that his family wants him to be: a ruthless hunter following in their footsteps.

Headcanons: 

Leander’s sorting was almost classified as a hatstall.  For 4 minutes and 50 seconds the Sorting Hat and Leander fought over where the Sorting Hat would place him. Many children in the past had asked the Sorting Hat to place them in a different house. For many of the students whom asked, the Sorting Hat took their decision into consideration due to the fact that the child displayed traits of that house anyways.  Leander showed so little traits of Ravenclaw that the Sorting Hat was hesitant to place him there. He would fit so flawlessly into Slytherin, cunning and ambitious, Leander looked out for himself above all else.  Leander’s steadfast desire to not be placed in Slytherin is perhaps a testament to why he should have been placed in Slytherin. But as Leander laid out the evidence as to why he should be placed into a different house, the Sorting Hat decided that Ravenclaw would perhaps be the better suited of the remaining three houses and promptly placed Leander there, 10 seconds shy of a proper hatstall.  

Leander’s wand is unsuited for direct combat, which he finds extremely ironic considering his family’s history.  His wand is better suited for creation than destruction, and hates when Leander uses it for dueling or related purposes.  At times it refuses to work for the particularly aggressive duels, and when Leander forces it to perform it will proceed to throw fits for days afterwards. The first time that he forced his wand to duel (in his third year) he thought he was going crazy and losing his magic since he was struggling with the most basic of spells.  Since that day, Leander endeavoured to build a relationship of trust with his wand.  He even goes as far as leaving his wand behind while going off on hunting trips, so as not to expose it to the horrors that it would have to face.  

Leander’s magic has always been heavily influenced by his emotions, which means that as a child his magic was particularly volatile. Even when he first began Hogwarts his magic was unstable and he was prone to bouts of accidental magic. After a few incidents his first year, his head of house recommended that he find some way to control his emotions and pointed him on the path of meditation and yoga. Leander has come to rely heavily on these techniques to control his magic. He wakes up early every morning and goes through his yoga routine and then meditation before class every day.  It helps hims feel grounded and more in control of his life, even when he really isn’t.    

Extra Family Headcanon:  Leander has always had a confusing grasp of how exactly everyone in his family is related to him. This mostly stems from the fact that his mother’s family had only 4 children, but they were spread out so that the oldest was 24 when the youngest child was born.  It also stems from the fact that the two youngest children were mostly raised by their brother after their parents died. Samuel and Elizabeth Sinclair died, leaving their two youngest, Magnolia (7) and Juniper (1). To be raised by their oldest son, Aspen, who was 25 at the time.  Aspen and his wife Renee had two children of their own, Laurel (7) and Jackson (3).  Hudson was 2 years old when Magnolia and Juniper went to live with their brother Aspen, and Leander was born the year after.  The six children were only 8 years apart from the youngest to the oldest, and were thusly raised and socialized together. They were the original Sleepover Squad as they began to call themselves, spending the night at a rotation of each other’s houses every month as their parents attended hunts. The six of them were educated together too, the families saving money on tutors who would educated all of the children together. The group was later joined by Tabitha (3 years younger than Leander), Georgiana (6 years younger than Leander), and Kenneth (5 years younger than Leander).  These three were related to Leander on his father’s side instead of his mother’s, but as the two families were friends long before Jon and Olive got married, they too were enveloped into this group of children.  These nine children all just considered each other cousins. They were playmates and friends, keeping each other company when their parents were away.  This constant exposure to people made Leander very comfortable with interactions with others, and made him used to having constant noise and chatter.  He loves to be surrounded by his friends at Hogwarts, because it reminds him of his childhood and growing up with near constant companionship. To the point where Leander grows very uncomfortable if he is completely alone, preferring to have at least one person around him at all times.

History:

Jon Parrish and Olive Sinclair were both raised and indoctrinated to believe that werewolves were a blight on society and unfit to live amongst the Wizarding community or around humans at all. The Parrish family was amongst a few Wizarding families who shared a highly specific and dangerous hobby - werewolf hunting.  When Jon and Olive graduated Hogwarts, they were arranged to be married. Bound by honor and duty (and a shared love of hunting) Olive took the Parrish name and the two became a most fearsome hunting duo.  They two could not sit by as the Wizarding World faced increasing attacks from werewolves on innocent wizards and muggles alike.  Olive and Jon were among the few who pushed for more and frequent hunts, increasing the frequency from once or twice a year to almost monthly by the time that Olive grew pregnant with the couple’s first child.

The Parrish family wears their scars proudly, as trophies of a hunt well done.  It pained Olive to give up hunting, even for a short while, but the whole family agreed that their family needed heirs.  Olive gave birth to two sons: Hudson and Leander, but was always up fighting as soon as she was give a clean bill of health after the births.  

Hudson and Leander were three years apart in age, but light years away in personality. There have been many times in Leander’s life when he wondered if he truly belonged in his family.  Everyone in his family possessed a ruthlessness and a drive that he just didn’t. Even as a young child he was always more content with reading or quiet activities rather than join in with his brother and cousins rough-housing.  Not that Leander never played with them. On the contrary, he possessed an exorbitant amount of hero worship for his older brother and cousins which meant he tried his hardest to fit in and play with them.  Though he always did enjoy his books more. The Parrish house was always a revolving door of family members. Aunts, Uncles, and cousins were always over visiting which meant that Leander seldom had a shortage of people to play with.  He especially loved when his cousins would spend the night over at their house when their parents would go out on camping trips.  One adult or older cousin would stay behind with all of the younger children. It was always changing and it kept Leander’s life interesting and exciting.

When Leander was six, his world was tilted on its axis.  One evening he hadn’t been able to sleep, and was wandering around his house.  His cousins were asleep upstairs after another fun sleepover night when he heard a commotion coming from the basement.  The door to the basement was usually locked and the secrets that it held were things that he’d “learn about when he was older”. This evening the door had been left ajar and he heard the voices of his parents and grandfather drifting up from below.   What six year old could resist?  For the rest of his life, Leander would wish that he could go back in time. Back to that moment that he began down the stairs and stop it.  He wished that he could go back to the childhood where his family secrets stayed buried there under the house. That evening he learned a secret that all Parrish children learned at 10 years old.  He finally learned why all of the Parrish children begun stamina and strength training at age 7 and combat training at 9. He saw the family’s trophy room, lined with the heads of their conquests, of the werewolves that they had killed.  The most shocking thing that evening to little Leander was the dead body lying on a table, with his family standing around each other congratulating each other on a hunt well done. Leander was paralyzed, frozen in fear on the stairs until he was spotted.  

Not too long after that, Leander and Hudson were sat down and told the dark and dangerous secrets of the Parrish family.  Leander was 6, too young for that knowledge, and Hudson was 9, only a year before he would have been told anyways.  Hudson, who had already begun combat training, was indoctrinated into the Parrish’s views of werewolves being horrible monsters that needed to be eradicated. Leander was too soft for all of this. He was the child that cried for the small rodents that they fed their owls.  Leander didn’t see the heads in the basement as proof of the family’s good deeds for this world, he saw it as needless killing of animals that had their own thoughts and feelings.  His knowledge was still warped by his family though, and even to this day Leander has difficulty seeing werewolves as people, but that doesn’t mean that they should be eradicated for merely existing.  

When a Parrish child was 10, if they showed enough promise in their training, were allowed to attend their family’s monthly “camping trips”. On a child’s first hunting trips, they were allowed to watch the proceedings from a safe distance, guarded by more experienced family members every month. By age 11 they are expected to be able to help participate in the hunt rather than observing, and on the full moon closest to their 17th birthday they are expected to make their first solo kill.  The scars that the family gained from these hunts were worn like badges of honor, proof that their family was contributing to this world. Even if the secret had to be carried with them to the grave. Leander seldom attended these hunts, feigning illness and volunteering to babysit the younger children as often as he could.  Leander’s disdain for the family business was on a “don’t ask, don’t tell” basis.  Everyone knew that Leander was not cut out for their way of life, but refused to acknowledge it.  It was the white elephant in the room, and the family allowed him to take up the job of babysitter. They used to rotate, all hating to be left behind and held back from the hunt, so many jumped at the chance to leave their nephew behind and attend the hunt.  

Leander packed up his room the moment that he received his Hogwarts letter.  The call of Hogwarts was that of safety. A place where he could get away from the family business and be the person that he wanted to be without his family pressuring him to participate. There are still occasions where his brother would come barging into his dorm, pulling him out of bed and dragging him along on the family hunts.  The Parrish’s knew passageways to sneak out of the castle and return before they were noted to be out of bed.  The Slytherins never asked questions, so Hudson was able to move around with confidence. It was during these times that Leander wished that he had somehow managed to convince the Sorting Hat to put him into Gryffindor instead of Ravenclaw.  At least then he would be protected from his brother dragging him off to hunts behind a password protected portrait not just a riddle that other students can answer as well.  Nothing made Leander happier than when his brother graduated from Hogwarts and he was finally out from under the immediate watchful eye of his family.  

Now:  

Leander is one of the more powerful magic wielders in his family, and an adept dueler as well.  Despite his absence on most hunts, his family still trained him along side of his brother and cousins.  In order to not draw even more attention to himself in his family politics, he dutifully trained harder and longer than everyone else. He goes along with most things that his family tells him, not making waves to try to keep their gaze off of him for as long as he could imagine. When he trained he imagines that he was training to fight his family instead of the werewolves they were training him to fight against.   Leander rarely showcases his talents at dueling, but rumours still circulate Hogwarts from the few times that he has attended and participated in duels around the school.  The common consensus is not to mess with Leander, because despite his quiet demeanor lurks a fierce and powerful dueler.  Leander does his best to reject these rumours. He might be quiet, but is the type of person to have a smile for everyone.  Making friends and hanging out with people he cares about are very important to him. His friends receive the love that he stopped giving to his family when he was young, to a point where he might smother his friends with his love. 

Starting in Leander’s 4th year, the first year his brother was not attending Hogwarts, he flourished. It was the first time that he had been truly free from the gaze of a family member, and now more free from the reach of his family than he ever had been. Leander still avoided the limelight, but smiled more and found that it was easier to have friends. He wasn’t worried about looking over his shoulder or having his brother remind him of his duties to his family.

It was in this time that Leander found the time to explore his gender and sexuality to find that they are not so easily contained into a box. He is not so fond of labels, but knows that the way that he relates to his gender is not the same way that other might. He identifies as genderfluid, somewhere in flux between male and female. He does not mind being called by male pronouns or by male identifiers, however he knows that the truth is somewhere slightly off center from male. Hogwarts is a more accepting place, and he found little resistance to his identification as genderfluid. For this he is thankful as he knows that his family would never find this acceptable.      

This summer Leander will turn seventeen. Most wix eagerly await the day that the Trace is no longer in effect and they are considered adults in the Wizarding world, but Leander is dreading it.  For a Parrish child, seventeen marks your first solos kill, the first time that they are expected to find, track, and kill a werewolf with minimal help from the members of the hunt.  Leander has managed to avoid killing at all, and merely watches on the hunts that he is forced on.  He knows though that this is one thing that his family will not let him avoid.  To be a Parrish you must kill, so Leander would at the very least be forced to cut all ties with his family and never see them again.  That is assuming that the family will be merciful, though with the collective ruthlessness of the family Leander wonders if he would be allowed to leave, or if they would eliminate him like the werewolves that they hunt for disgracing the family name.  

[stephicness]

*whispers* Dark Souls bosses in FF classes.

HM… Interestingquestion for me. I feel kinda bad since I don’t know as much about Dark Soulsas I’d like to, but I can perhaps answer this for the Lords of Cinder from DarkSouls III for ya. c: Here we go, let’s try it~

Final Souls III: Dark Souls x Final Fantasy AU

Abyss Watchers – Assassin / Red Mage

I get the whole assassin vibe – as you may have aswell – because they tend to favor the idea of agility as their major strength.Yeah, like with many Dark Souls bosses, they can hit hard for a more early-gameboss, but they’re very agile and will jump at you and chase you down if youaren’t careful. I would have said thief, but thieves have more of a skill-setthat caters to not only the fast strikes, but the ability to steal from you.Beyond just stealing your health (and probably your life), they’re still ableto really wreck you and prioritize damage a bit more than being all thief-like,so I see them as more of an assassin compared to a basic thief. Their job isjust to fuck you up and purge the abyss from you!I also lump them up as a red mage, because once they reach their second stage,they have their blade equipped with flames, something red mages can typicallydo. A red mage is unique, as they can cast magic and be on the offensive aswell. But the way they can typically do that is by imbuing their weapon withtheir magic, so the Abyss Watchers definitely have that red mage vibe alongwith their speed and strength.

Aldrich, Devourer of Gods – Magus / Summoner

WithAldrich, it’s kinda weird to pick something out for him since he appears to bethe more vague of the rest of the Lords of Cinder bosses. We do see in hisfighting style though that he casts alot of magical blasts and spells from hisstaff, making him fall under the class of black mage almost instantly –especially when emphasizing more in damage from his attacks rather than statusailments or buffs to his being. Would say he would just be a black mage, butconsidering that he’s a pretty tough boss if you don’t know what you’re doing,and how powerful his spells are, he probably is more of a Magus, whichbasically just means he’s more powerful.I can also see him as a summoner too, considering that he has the hail of lightarrows he can call upon and the violet pyres that chase after you too. Perhapsnot a beast, but he seems like a variant of a summoner if he can command thesespells with such precious and bring forth these pyre lights to destroy yourface.

Yhorm the Giant – Warrior / Ravager

Yeah, he’s got a basic class as a warrior, but I can also see him using skills similar to a Ravager from FFXIII, due to the fact that he eventually lights up with fire and is able to hit you with that monstrous sword of his. I would have classified him as maybe a Samurai of sorts, but he’s not really the type of character that gives off that vibe. That, and he doesn’t really supply the ‘Breaks’ to help apply a supportive role to anyone, merely deciding to hit you and hit you hard with his blade.I mention that he’s potentially something like a Ravager, because similar to Abyss Watchers, he too has a fire blade. But unlike Abyss Watchers, his sword is mostly just a straight-forward slam on the ground to squish you rather than Abyss Watchers leaving trails of fire in their wake or slashing at you with a flame sweep. With the Ravager, there are the Firestrike abilities and the like, perhaps being more attuned with Yhorm’s style, since he mostly can just tap you with a flaming blade instead.

Lothric, Younger Prince – Necromancer

I mean… You probably know, but he pretty much just keeps bringing Lorian back in their boss fight each time you try to kill the Elder Prince before the Younger. And to match with that, Necromancers typically know a good deal of black magic as well. And despite firing blades of light and other light-looking abilities, he means them in mostly an offensive style rather than a healing one. The most he does is use it as a means to revive Lorian. I would say he could be a white mage, but I doubt he really keeps Lorian alive that much with the power of kindness and stuff. It’s a much darker curse, I imagine.

Lorian, Elder Prince – Paladin (Rune Knight)

You can honestly call this many different things, but I can see Lorian falling under the category of a Paladin – particularly because not only is he a warrior type to compliment Lothric, but because he’s also got the light affinity similar to Lothric, meaning he has the potential of casting light-related spells (holy, in FF’s case). He’s also one to fall under the potential class of Paladin, due to the fact that – even if he typically falls first in combat – he protects Lothric throughout the battle. He doesn’t have the potential to heal him, but he acts as a protective shield for his brother while wrecking your power with the power of light as well. A force to be reckoned with.

[tomeandflickcorner]

OUAT Episode Analysis- Mother’s Little Helper

Wow.  Did A&E really write this one?  I’m impressed.  Why couldn’t they have written like this when they made that awful Wish World two-parter? They even pulled off an impressive plot twist that actually surprised me.  Well done, you two.  Now let’s see if you can keep this up.

So we start off with Emma learning how Gideon abducted Killian and left him stranded in another realm, and is now preventing him from getting back.  And she is LIVID.  She even resorts to using the Force Choke Hold on Gideon.  That’s how far she’s been pushed, people.  Because it’s obvious that’s classified as Dark Magic, something Emma hasn’t used since she was freed from the Dark One’s essence.  But Gideon is all ‘please, you don’t scare me,’ and tells Emma that if she wants Killian back, she really has no other choice but to help him.

The next day, Emma and Snow, who has once again remembered Emma is her daughter, storm into Gold’s shop to let them know what they think of Gideon’s behavior, and are pretty much ‘control your kid, or we’ll control him for you.’ Belle, however, beseeches Emma to give Gideon a chance, stating her belief that there is good in him.  I’m of two minds when it comes to this scene. Yes, Belle is completely in character here, and I fully acknowledge this is her son they’re talking about here. But it is a bit problematic that Belle is essentially saying that Gideon shouldn’t be blamed for his actions because he grew up under the Black Fairy’s abuse.  You know, considering she’s talking to Emma.  It’s not as if Emma’s childhood was all glitz and glamour, after all. Granted her foster families never actively tortured her, but I’ve seen the cigarette burn on her hand.  And I noticed what looked to be a scar above her breast during the Captain Swan movie.   There’s enough evidence to suggest she was physically abused at some point.  I can understand how being tortured as a child can mess you up a bit, but that doesn’t give you permission to run around plotting to kill people.

Regardless, Emma agrees to give Gideon a fair chance and meets with him at the Storybrooke clock tower.  However, she tells him that if he wants her help, she needs some collateral.  Because she hasn’t forgotten that he did try to kill her a few days ago, so she has a right to be cautious around him.  As such, she has him hand over the Ruby Hilt Sword and the spell that’s keeping Killian away.  They end up going to the Sorcerer’s Mansion and begin a ritual that I think was meant to open up a portal to the Black Fairy’s realm so they could overthrow her. Or lift the enchantment keeping Killian away.    It was one of those two options.  But they’re disrupted by the appearance of a giant spider that proceeds to attack Emma and Gideon, with Gideon claiming the spider was sent by the Black Fairy, who figured out what they were doing and was seeking to stop them.

Now this is when the episode really starts throwing you for loops.  While they’re dodging the spider, Gideon actually apologizes to Emma for his actions.  Which is quite a novel concept.  Imagine a villain we just met who apologizes right off the back.  (In contrast, has Regina ever actually apologized to Snow, Charming and Emma for casting the Dark Curse and separating them?  No to mention the rest of Storybrooke, who were just innocent bystanders caught in the crossfire.  And has Rumple apologized to the Nevengers for the stuff he’s pulled on them?)  But right when Emma is trying to find a way out, Gideon pulls a fast one on her, revealing that this was all a trick and he was the one who summoned the spider, with the intention of letting the spider kill Emma.  So, Gideon teleports away, leaving Emma at the mercy of the giant spider. Despite her best efforts at fighting off the spider, Emma, who somehow forgot she could just teleport herself away like Gideon did, ends up cocooned by the spider.  When she loses consciousness because of the spider silk obstructing her airways, Gideon begins a different ritual that would enable the Black Fairy to enter Storybrooke.  Just when the portal to the Dark Realm opens up, however, Gold suddenly arrives at the Sorcerer’s Mansion and drives the spider off, freeing Emma from the cocoon in the process.  (And I think this marks the first time I was actually glad to see Gold doing something on the screen.  Congrats, Rumpy Rumps.  You’ve earned another gold star today.)

Thus begins the second PTA meeting with Emma, Snow, Belle and Gold.  Emma announces that Gideon has just used up his last chance, and the next time they meet, she will show him no mercy.  However, Gold insists that Emma isn’t being fair and whatnot.  In any event, it’s clear that lines are being drawn in the sand over this issue.  

Now, once again, I understand that Gold is concerned for Gideon and doesn’t want to see him die.  But regardless, I still wanted to Gibbs Slap him for accusing Emma and Snow for only seeing things in black and white and acting like Emma is being unreasonable for no longer willing to be lenient with Gideon.  After all, she gave him a chance and offered to help him.  But he responded by double-crossing her.  Emma has every right to want to defend herself against the person who is seeking to kill her.  And, at present, she is completely unaware of the plot twist that’s revealed in the episode flashback.

This episode also shows us how Gideon got to this point.  After the Black Fairy abducted him from Shady Blue’s care, she brought Baby Gideon to her realm, where she keeps stolen children as slaves and mine workers, forcing them to mine for dark fairy dust.  But instead of placing Baby Gideon into the mines, she decides to keep him as a pet of some sort.  During this segment, we also see that moment that Gideon referred to a few episodes ago, when the Black Fairy ‘tested’ Gideon with the opportunity to protect a friend of his.  Seeing this moment was as upsetting as I anticipated it to be, and it shows how nasty and sinister the Black Fairy is.  But I still say Gideon shouldn’t be so hard on himself for this moment.  Again, he was only a kid.  There was nothing he could have done, even if he had tried to interfere.  No child should be made to feel guilty for not standing up to their abuser.  That would be victim blaming, plain and simple.

However, we see that moment ended up breaking Young Gideon, as we then cut to him when he’s full grown.  At this point, he’s become the Black Fairy’s minion flunky, doing her bidding without question.  One day, the Black Fairy summons him to announce he has just turned 28 years old.  She then tells him that someone in the mines has stolen her vault key and tasks him with finding out who is responsible.  When Gideon goes down to the mines to punish the guilty one, he has an unexpected reunion with his childhood friend, the one he couldn’t save as a boy.  The friend in question is revealed to be called Roderick. Thing was, when I saw the episode, I thought they called him Mordred, as in Mordred of Camelot lore.  But I apparently heard wrong.   Anyway, Roderick beseeches Gideon to look inside himself and reacquaint himself with who he used to be before the Black Fairy instilled her programming into him. In the end, Gideon decides to help Roderick, who tells Gideon he heard tales of a brave hero called the Savior, explaining he planned to break into the Black Fairy’s vault in order to obtain a crystal ball that could be used to contact the Savior and ask for her help in saving them.  Because Roderick has found out that the Black Fairy’s reasons for mining dark fairy dust is because she’s planning to cast a terrible curse.  It turns out that the Black Fairy was the one who actually patented the Dark Curse.  But she never managed to perfect it.  Which is what she’s trying to do now with the dark fairy dust.  So if she success, she’ll be able to manufacture a Dark Curse that would make Regina’s curse look like child’s play.  Which is obviously a holocaust of bad.

Unfortunately, when Gideon helps Roderick break into the vault to contact the Savior with the crystal ball, the Black Fairy appears, revealing this was just another trick, and she had set Gideon up to test his loyalty to her.  To punish Gideon for his defiance, she proceeds to turn Roderick into a beetle, killing him before Gideon’s eyes.  To add salt to the wound, she then takes possession of Gideon’s heart, turning him into her Heart Controlled slave.

To this, I applaud A&E. Because I did not see this coming. At all.  And this reveal does complicate matters a bit.  It means that Gideon really isn’t acting on his own accord after all, and there might still be a chance to save him.  Although, this doesn’t mean I find fault with Emma for the ‘no mercy’ stance she’s currently taking with Gideon.  Because she doesn’t know about the Heart Control yet.  With the limited information she has to work with, she is not at fault with not being willing to give Gideon another chance.  Once she does find out about the Heart Control, she’s obviously going to realize that the rules have changed and she’s going to do what she can to free him from the Black Fairy’s control.  But until she discovers that missing piece of the puzzle, she’s only going to know that Gideon is the guy who is actively trying to kill her, kidnapped her True Love, and betrayed her when she offered him her help.  So of course she’s not going to give him another chance.

And to make matters even worse, the ritual Gideon performed to bring the Black Fairy into Storybrooke turned out to be successful.  Even though Gold stopped the spider from killing Emma, she lost consciousness just long enough for it to count, and the Black Fairy was able to slip through the cracks. So, the way things are shaping up, this is going to be quite an epic conclusion to this story arc, which I’m now dubbing the Black Fairy arc. 

 All I can say, is that I’m now wanting to see them find a way to de-age Gideon back to an infant when this is all over, complete with a mind wipe so he won’t remember anything that happened to him after Belle sent him away out of concern for her child’s safety.  Kind of like what they did with August back in S2.  If anyone should get a fresh start, it’s this guy.  Plus, Belle deserves the chance to raise her child in peace.

Meanwhile, in Subplot B, Regina is back in her vault, working on trying to figure out how to break Snowing’s sleeping curse, which she really should have been doing in the last episode, but we’re not going to discuss that can of worms.  Although, it did strike me as a bit irksome that she was talking about cleaning up the messes Evil Queen left and made no mention how she STILL hasn’t returned those hearts to their rightful owners.  Why bother bringing up the fact that she still has her heart collection if they’re not going to bother resolving that issue?  

Anyway, Henry is all ‘you can do it, Regina!  If you can’t do it, no one can!’  Which, again, is odd since Emma was the one who effectively cleaned up after Regina in S1 when she broke the original Dark Curse.  Out of nowhere, Henry suddenly goes into a weird trance-like state and ends up writing out a series of strange symbols that Regina can’t identify.  Wondering what it all means, they end up deciding to question Author Isaac, who has been residing in the psychiatric ward since the end of the Author arc.  Which kind of makes sense, as they sadly can’t ask Merlin and the Apprentice anymore.  Unfortunately, imprisonment hasn’t fixed Author Isaac’s tendency to be annoying, and he says he refuses to talk unless he’s given a car and allowed to leave Storybrooke.  (I guess Regina got rid of the town line barrier spell off screen?)  He also includes tickets to Hamilton among his list of demands, which is a slight anachronism, as that musical premiered in 2015 and the show’s timeline is still in in the late 2013 to early 2014 range. I know Adam tweeted something about how in this version of reality, Hamilton premiered earlier than it did in our world, but that just sounds like a made-up excuse to cover up their slip-up.

Regina eventually agrees to release Author Isaac and give him a car.  Which is something else that bothers me.  I realize everyone else had their hands full with the whole Gideon thing at the moment, and that Regina was concerned with what was going on with Henry, but releasing Author Isaac really wasn’t Regina’s decision to make.  At the very least, she should have discussed things with the rest of the Nevengers with everyone voting on the matter.  I’m just saying, the last time Regina made a decision without getting everyone else’s input first, it was when she decided it was perfectly okay to give Hades a chance and trust him with Zelena and Baby Robyn.  And look how well that turned out.

Regardless, Author Isaac takes his chance to drive away.  But before he does, he informs Regina and Henry that the reason for Henry’s trance was because the story within Henry’s book is nearing the end. Obviously, this means something climatic is about to happen, but it doesn’t quite explain what those weird symbols meant.  Or why anyone should be seriously concerned.  If you remember, there were probably hundreds of blank Storybooks in the Sorcerer’s Mansion.  Even if Henry’s Storybook is about to reach its conclusion, so what?  It just means you start a new story.  Because nothing ever really ends.  

And of course, we get the subplot with Killian, who is just as eager to get back to Emma as she is at getting him home.  He ends up approaching Blackbeard at a tavern somewhere, once again offering to trade the Jolly Roger for another magic bean.  Because Blackbeard managed to get his hands on another magic bean.  Where exactly does he keep finding these magic beans, anyway?  I thought they were supposed to be rare.  Apart from that, it’s interesting that Blackbeard knows that Killian made the original trade for Emma.  Which means that Killian was completely forthright with why he wanted a magic bean the last time. Meaning he didn’t give a bat’s behind if Blackbeard mocked him for losing his head over a woman.  Killian, this is why we love you.  

Getting back to the story, the two pirates begin to play a game of cards, agreeing that the winner gets the spoils.  Ultimately, Blackbeard wins the game, but that’s when Killian proves his craftiness, telling Blackbeard that the Jolly Roger is back in Storybrooke.  And if he wants to get it, he has to use his magic bean to bring them there.  In other words, Killian knew going into that card game that he was going to be returning to Storybrooke either way.  Blackbeard is not pleased by this turn of events, accusing Killian of being deceitful. And Killian is like ‘look who’s talking.  It wasn’t as if that was a fair card game.  No proper deck has 6 aces.’  So Blackbeard has no choice but to use the magic bean to open a portal to Storybrooke. But, because of the blocking spell Gideon set up, the portal doesn’t bring the two men to Storybrooke. Instead, they wind up in a completely different realm, which Killian soon identifies as Neverland (which has apparently stopped being a jungle island in Pan’s absence) when a horde of Lost Boys suddenly appear.

Now, this right here raises a few questions.  As Killian and Blackbeard are trying to get away from the Lost Boy horde, Killian explains that they didn’t bring all the Lost Boys with them when they left Neverland back in S3, and that they allowed the most savage ones to stay behind.  But if that was the case, it once again brings up the question of why they brought Felix back with them.  Felix was Pan’s right hand man/lapdog.  So he was therefore the worst of all the Lost Boys.  Why didn’t they leave him on the island, too? Granted the plot demanded Felix to be in Storybrooke, but from a logic standpoint, it made no sense.

Plot hole aside, Killian and Blackbeard, while running for their lives, come across a conveniently placed rowboat.  But Blackbeard uses an underhanded tactic to commandeer the rowboat for himself, leaving Killian stranded on the island at the mercy of the rampaging Lost Boys.  Question is, where does Blackbeard think he’s going? He’s in a completely different realm, so it’s not like he can just row his way back to the Enchanted Forest. Also, does Neverland even have another landmass apart from the main island? As far as we know, the rest of that world consists of nothing but endless ocean.  So I don’t know where Blackbeard thinks he’s gonna end up. That is, if he can even get past the Neverland mermaids.  Because as memory serves, they weren’t the friendliest bunch.  And I doubt a rowboat is going to offer him much in the way of protection if they plan on attacking him.  Blackbeard’s pretty much a dead man rowing here, I must say.

So, all in all, this was a good solid episode.  And it actually is helping me restore a bit of faith in A&E.  The only thing that bugged me with the episode is how they left Killian’s subplot off with him still running from the Lost Boys.  I know he’s going to make it out alright, so it’s not like it was much of a cliffhanger.   But that just felt like a strange place to place the bookmark.

(Click here to read more Episode Analyses)

[calleo-bricriu]

idylliceidolon replied to your post: idylliceidolon replied to your post : ...

Alsooo you could theoretically kill someone with just about any spell if you’re creative enough (perhaps a delayed or well-aimed ‘engorgio’ on food someone’s swallowed, or a careless mending of a broken neck)

You won’t find me arguing that point.

Intent is key for any spell to work and, despite what some might have you believe, intent does and should matter.

I can use Incendio to reheat my tea just as easily as I could use it to reduce an entire neighbourhood to ashes, yet Incendio is still viewed as a relatively harmless charm instead of a curse that borders on dark magic. Since my intent is to reheat my tea and not to unleash a fiery mini-apocalypse on the surrounding houses, the charm itself remains harmless when under my direction.

In that case, as well as in the case you mentioned, the misuse of the spell would be considered a ‘one off’ or a misuse by someone who was clearly either a criminal or someone who was arguably not all there when they used it in that manner. The spell itself is rarely, if ever blamed in cases where its usefulness is largely benign and it has not already or previously been classified as a curse, jinx, or hex.

The views on such spells can and occasionally do change over time; typically, if a borderline misuse of a spell gains favour or popularity among the darker aspects of society, the public opinion on the spell often shifts as well.

[thediaboazulbookstore-blog]

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World Without Mind : The Existential Threat of Big Tech by Franklin Foer Over the past few decades there has been a revolution in terms of who controls knowledge and information. This rapid change has imperilled the way we think. Without pausing to consider the cost, the world has rushed to embrace the products and services of four titanic corporations. We shop with Amazon; socialise on Facebook; turn to Apple for entertainment; and rely on Google for information. These firms sell their efficiency and purport to make the world a better place, but what they have done instead is to enable an intoxicating level of daily convenience. As these companies have expanded, marketing themselves as champions of individuality and pluralism, their algorithms have pressed us into conformity and laid waste to privacy. They have produced an unstable and narrow culture of misinformation, and put us on a path to a world without private contemplation, autonomous thought, or solitary introspection – a world without mind. In order to restore our inner lives, we must avoid being co-opted by these gigantic companies, and understand the ideas that underpin their success.

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The Mother of All Questions : Further Feminisms by Rebecca Solnit Following on from the success of Men Explain Things to Me comes a new collection of essays in which Rebecca Solnit opens up a feminism for all of us: one that doesn't stigmatize women's lives, whether they include spouses and children or not; that brings empathy to the silences in men's lives as well as the silencing of women's lives; celebrates the ways feminism has shifted in recent years to reclaim rape jokes, revise canons, and rethink our everyday lives. Rebecca Solnit is author of, among other books, Wanderlust, A Field Guide to Getting Lost, the NBCC award-winning River of Shadows and A Paradise Built in Hell. She’s a contributing editor to Harper's, she writes regularly for the London Review of Books and the Los Angeles Times.

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